When Darkness Falls
by Mystic Lady Fae
Summary: Sequel to Between Light and Darkness: With The Joker in a coma, Bruce and Amara are now free to live their lives together. Well, at least for a little while. What happens when the Clown Prince wakes up and wants what's "his?" M for violence
1. Thoughts of the Future

Disclaimer: I own nothing involving _**Batman**_, _**The Dark Knight**_, or anything related to that franchise. This is just me being creative. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Here it is, the sequel to "_Between Light and Darkness_!" I hope that it's worth the wait, and that it lives up to everyone's expectations. I should also mention that I'm going to make this much shorter than the prequel, since I don't want to drag it out too long and bore my readers. Please don't hesitate to review and let me know what you think, or how I'm doing. Thanks, and enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 1: Thoughts of the Future****:**

The ride back to the penthouse was quiet, but cheerful. Amara had her hand firmly clasped in Bruce's, the two of them exchanging the occasional squeeze as they drove through the streets of Gotham. Sometimes, she would look over and spot the happy grin on her fiancé's face, a sight that made her heart speed up.

Honestly, Amara couldn't figure out how she, of all people, could make him happy, but apparently she did. Bruce, in turn, made her feel not only happy, but special and loved, and for the life of her, she couldn't understand why that was. In her mind, Amara had always expected a billionaire to marry some heiress so that their fortunes could merge and create a business empire; Amara never thought that she, a modest librarian, could make someone like Bruce Wayne fall so much in love with her that he'd want her for a wife! It was mindboggling, but it also felt right, so who was she to complain?

They arrived back at the building in good time, only breaking their hand-holds in order to get out of the car, and once again entwining their fingers as they walked into the elevator and rode straight up. And of course, the minute the doors opened, there was Alfred, a broad smile on his face as he stepped forward to greet them.

Blushing, Amara suddenly found herself in a warm, tight hug. Alfred had never hugged her like this before, so it was an entirely new experience for her. He also patted her gently on the back, whispered his congratulations, and pulled back just enough to squeeze her shoulders in encouragement. Now she was sure of his approval of their engagement, and any uneasiness she felt flew out the window.

"Well, Master Wayne, I must say it's about time you put your feelings forward," the older man informed his employer. "I was beginning to think that it would never happen and that I'd have to do something drastic to move things along for you."

Bruce smiled and looked at her. "He'd do it, too," he said with a wink. "Trust me, he's just that sneaky and clever."

Amara snickered as Alfred took her by the arm and led her into the dining nook. There on the table was a fantastic luncheon, all spread out and with two places set. Most of the dishes were steaming, and there was a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice on the table, the cork already removed and the contents poured out. Her stomach growled, and Alfred took that as an indication to serve.

As he filled the first plate, both Bruce and Amara asked him to join them, which he happily did. The three of them raised their glasses in celebration of the happy occasion, drank, then quickly fell to eating. Roasted chicken breast stuffed with cheese, tiny red potatoes cooked in butter, garlic and parsley, and a chocolate mousse all made their way into their stomachs. There was also an array of fresh, marinated, crisp vegetables cut into flowers and meant to be nibbled on to cleanse the palette. Amara wanted to stop after the dessert, but the tiny flowers looked so appetizing that she had to try one –which quickly evolved into her consuming several more.

Finally, Alfred took the food away, removing all temptations from her sight, and the three of them sat back in their chairs with contented sighs. Another round of champagne was poured, and they all sat, sipping in the calm quiet. Amara was just starting to drift into a blissful haze when Alfred spoke.

"As much as I hate to ruin this precious moment, sir, I thought I should mention this before I forget," he said, looking between Bruce and Amara. "Commissioner Gordon called today, and to put it politely, he's a bit put off with you."

Bruce winced. "I know, he's upset that I ran off without his officers hovering around me as protection," he retorted while rolling his eyes.

"Well, there's that," Alfred admitted, "but he also mentioned something about not following the orders or advice of someone experienced in kidnappings and ransom. You might want to put the man at the top of your invitee list for the wedding."

Amara nodded emphatically. "I'll make sure to do that, don't worry."

Alfred reached out and patted her arm. "But I'm afraid there are a few other things I should mention."

Bruce gave his butler a scrutinizing look, clearly telling him that it'd better not be upsetting news. "Alright," he slowly drawled. "What is it?"

"Well," Alfred said, reaching out to pour more champagne into all three glasses, "The police now know that Batman has returned to the city, possibly for good. With their boss is in a coma, The Joker's men have been giving up every speck of information they possess, so the police don't know if they should thank The Dark Knight, or continue chasing him."

"I'm hoping it's the former," Amara said, taking a sip from her glass as she looked at the ring on her left hand. "The last thing I need is for my future husband to be hunted down like a criminal when he isn't one."

Bruce studied the grain of the wood of the dining table and fiddled with his glass. "So they know for sure that The Joker is in a coma? Do you know how injured he is?"

Alfred shook his head. "I took the liberty of questioning the Commissioner about that, sir, and he thinks that the coma is either permanent, or will last for quite some time. The hospital that he's been sent to ran a few tests, and it seems that some parts of his brain have shut down, either to heal themselves or because they are so damaged they can no longer function. That madman will be out of our hair for quite some time, if not forever."

Sighing in relief, Amara took another drink from her glass, this time completely draining it. "Well, that's enough liquor for me," she said with a smile. "I've got to go get my things ready for work, so I definitely need to stay sober."

Bruce looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean, you've got to get ready for work?" he asked. "You were just kidnapped last night, not to mention in a daring escape from said kidnapping. After all you've been through, you can't seriously want to go back so soon!"

"I've done it before, and I'll do it again," she told him firmly. "This time I know what to expect when it comes to the media and everything. The reporters I can handle, and since we won't have to worry about The Joker any longer, I won't have to keep looking over my shoulder and wondering when or if he'll strike again."

Alfred smiled. "She has you there, Master Wayne," he said, sipping from his glass. "Besides, she'll be alright. I'll take her to work and bring her home, just like before. She'll be fine."

Sighing, Bruce raised his hands in defeat. "Alright, you win. Go get your things ready. Alfred will help you if you need it. Meanwhile, I've got some business papers I have to go over."

Amara couldn't help but smile as she rose from her seat, made her way over to Bruce's side, and bent to press a kiss to his lips. "You're sweet," she softly cooed before heading off to her room.

Behind her, she could almost hear Bruce smiling as she walked away.

* * *

Watching his fiancée vanish down the hallway, Bruce felt himself smiling like an idiot. Alfred gave him a wink as he stood up and collected the glasses to take into the kitchen.

"She really is something, isn't she, sir?" the older man asked before vanishing into the kitchen.

'_She sure is_,' Bruce thought as he stood and headed for his home office. Once inside the quiet space, he shut and locked the door behind him, making sure it was secure before picking up the phone and dialing.

Lucius Fox's voice answered. "Yes, sir?"

"Mr. Fox, what can you tell me about The Joker's present condition?" Bruce asked, all seriousness.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Alfred's word; actually, it was Commissioner Gordon whom he was mostly concerned about. The Commissioner of Police had no experience with medicine, and Lucius Fox did, so if Bruce had to choose between whose word he should go by when it came to medical conditions, he'd go with Lucius.

"Well, from what I could gather from the hospital's staff, The Joker is in a very deep coma, Mr. Wayne," the other man explained. "There are certain parts of his brain that have been severely damaged, possibly beyond the natural healing abilities of the human body, but there's no way to know for sure right now. Some of the doctors believe he'll be in this coma permanently, but others think not, so they'll be keeping him in the hospital to keep a close eye on his condition."

Bruce did not like that idea. "Is there any way for them to move him to Arkham Asylum, if only to be watched over? What if he manages to wake up and escape? A hospital is one of the least secure places to leave a sociopath like him."

"I agree with you, sir, but there's no convincing the doctors otherwise," Lucius told him. "Arkham isn't equipped with the medical devices needed by someone in such a severe condition, so a hospital is the only choice. He'll be handcuffed to the bed and strapped down, though I doubt that makes you feel any better. The Commissioner feels the same way you and I do, but the people above his head have ruled in favor of the doctors. The Joker remains at Gotham Hospital."

Clenching his fists in frustration, Bruce thanked his friend and employee, and hung up. There was no way to convince the mayor and the governor to side with him on this one. Rich and powerful he may be, but considering that he had donated nothing to their political campaigns, they would feel that they owed him nothing.

And if there was one thing Bruce hated to do, it was pay out bribes of any kind. '_My father would roll over in his grave if he knew I was doing that_.' Bruce would not shame his family that way.

For now, things would have to remain out of his hands when it came to The Joker's handling. All Bruce could do was make sure that the woman he loved remained safe and sound –at least until their wedding day.

'_By then, we'll be living at Wayne Manor, which is extremely difficult to approach unnoticed_.'

With the rebuilding of his family home, Bruce had ordered a sophisticated security system installed to alert him to intruders. Although the estate was somewhat isolated, any burglar would have a hard time getting to the house itself. First, they'd have to first get around the tall stone walls surrounding the property, as well as the immense steel gate that protected it; after that, they'd be tracked like tagged animals with the motion sensors, and by the time they reached the house, anyone inside would be ready for them.

Bruce shook his head. Well, enough of those unpleasant thoughts. Amara was busy preparing for her return to work at the library, and Alfred was in the kitchen, probably planning a spectacular dinner, so Bruce had the afternoon to himself. And since he felt himself getting a bit out of shape, some time in the gym was just what he needed.

* * *

Sighing in relief, Amara packed the last piece of clothing into a drawer and smiled. Most of her professional clothing had needed to be washed, pressed, or both, and it'd taken her hours to do it. Alfred had offered to help, but since she could tell that he was busy with supper, Amara decided to do it all herself. Besides, she'd needed time to think.

Thinking back on all that had happened to her, everything was either coming together or falling apart. She was getting married to Bruce, but The Joker was still out there. Granted, the Clown Prince of Crime was in a coma in a hospital, but that didn't mean that he couldn't manage an escape once he came out of it. And when he did, well, that didn't bode well for anyone. Bruce would protect her, of course, but still…

'_He can't be everywhere, and there are a bunch of other people who need him even more than I do_.'

As nice as it would be to have Bruce all to herself, Amara knew she couldn't be selfish, not when he was one of the few people who could protect Gotham from being overrun with crime and corruption. As Batman, he would be called upon to save the innocent and bring justice back to the city; her needs would have to come after that.

The clock on the dresser chimed six times, telling her that dinner was likely ready. Alfred was always good at having the evening meal ready by now.

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, Amara headed into the dining room, and was surprised. Flickering light coming from the two lit candles on the table filled the room with a romantic air, and Amara could see Alfred setting filled dishes on the table. Two glasses of champagne sat bubbling by the plates, and in the center was a bouquet of red roses and baby's breath.

"It looks great," whispered a familiar voice into her ear.

Amara jumped and whirled around, coming face-to-face with Bruce. His hazel eyes danced in amusement as he put an arm around her waist, gently guiding her into the room.

"Ah, there you are," Alfred said with a smile. "Enjoy your dinner. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

Bruce held her chair out to seat her before taking his own. When they were seated, they both eagerly dug into their pot roast. Crisp vegetables left over from lunch accompanied the roast, and dessert was leftover chocolate mousse topped with dollops of whipped marshmallow. There was little conversation, but Amara didn't mind. She could feel Bruce's gaze on her once in a while, and it was thrilling to know how much he cared about her through his frequent glances.

When the dishes had been cleared, Alfred came to join them for after-dinner champagne, coffee, scotch, or, in Amara's case, sparkling water. She'd barely taken a sip when Alfred broached a subject she hadn't even considered yet today.

"If I might ask, Amara, when do you intend to hire someone to help you plan the wedding?"

She choked on the water in her mouth, but managed to swallow it quickly. "Oh, uh, I hadn't really thought about it," she replied. "Do you think we'll need a wedding planner?"

Alfred sat back in his chair and looked thoughtful. "Well, I've no experience with planning them, but I think it would depend on the wedding, such as if you want a large or small one, and if you think you can handle it on your own. Now, I don't doubt your skills in the least, Amara, but since you're a working girl and not a socialite, I don't think that you'll have the time it takes to toss a socially acceptable wedding."

"I agree," Bruce put in, "but only about you not having the time. I don't care if we have a large wedding or not, it's up to you. If you only want to invite family and friends, that's fine with me."

Amara shook her head. "I'd love for it to be a small gathering, but I know it would look bad if we didn't invite certain people. You know; the governor, the mayor, and Commissioner Gordon. We'll probably have to include some of your most valuable workers or partners, too."

Sighing, she emptied her glass of water and reached for the champagne bottle, which Alfred had kindly left on the table. She poured herself a generous amount and took a sip, needing to calm her nerves.

'_I can't plan a wedding_!' Amara nervously thought as the alcohol slid down her throat. '_I have no idea how this is supposed to work. What am I going to do_?'

A slightly wrinkled hand reached out and took her glass from her. Looking up, she saw Alfred's kind, fatherly gaze on her as he put the glass out of her reach.

"Now, now, none of that," he chided her. "I won't have you turning into an alcoholic just because of your nerves. I'll do whatever I can to help with the wedding, and we'll find a nice planner to help as well, if you want."

She heaved a sigh of relief. "That's perfect, Alfred. Thank you. I wish I could have my mother or my aunts here to help, but they can't afford to take the time off of work to come out here, so I'll have to do it myself. Well, with help of course."

A thought suddenly hit her. "Maybe I could have Julie help, too. She's smart _and_ organized, which is more than I can say for myself. I'm organized when I have to be; Julie is organized no matter what. She'd be a big help, I'm sure of it."

Bruce smiled and nodded in approval. "Go ahead and get whatever or whoever you need," he told her. "Meanwhile, if you need me for anything, let me know, and I'll do what I can."

She returned his smile with one of her own. It was comforting to know that he had such faith in her and her abilities (or lack there of) when it came to their wedding.

"Why don't the two of you go watch a film or something in the den?" Alfred suggested as he rose from the table. "Relax, have some quiet time to yourselves for a while, then we'll continue this tomorrow, when everyone's refreshed. How does that sound?"

Amara was more than willing to go along with that idea, and so, apparently, was Bruce. After all, tomorrow was another day; nothing had to be done now, so why couldn't they just sit and savor the moment?

Her fiancé was quick to get out of his chair and help her out of hers before leading her to the den. There they selected a romantic film with just a touch of action and excitement, and enjoyed a very pleasant night, just the two of them. The movie, of course, had a happy ending, and Amara was just beginning to nod off when Bruce pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to do that," she apologized as she slowly stirred back to wakefulness.

"It's fine," he whispered. "Why don't you get to bed? There are a few things I need to do before I turn in for the night."

Amara looked up at him. "You mean…going out?"

He nodded. "I've been away too long, and the criminals out there are going to start acting out again, now that The Joker is off the streets. If he's gone, it gives them less competition for street business. I have to go."

"No, its okay, you don't have to tell me why you need to go out tonight," she hurriedly assured him. "I just wanted to be sure that was what you meant. I know you've got two businesses, so it might be confusing not knowing if you're going out for something having to do with Wayne Enterprises, or for…something else."

Bruce actually looked amused. "I rarely go out at night for anything having to do with the company," he explained to her. "When I do, it's usually for the usual company gala or a fundraiser where a personal appearance would do some good. Anything else I can do from here and send it via a courier back to the office."

"Well, that's nice to know," she muttered. "But promise me that you'll let me know when you get home? I want to make sure that you're alright."

"I don't want to wake you, but I promise," he said, grudgingly.

Smiling, she kissed him. "Thank you," she whispered. "Now, go kick some bad-guy butt."

Grinning, he kissed her back and got up off the couch.

* * *

Tonight, patrolling the streets was torture for him. Normally, he'd be thrilled at being able to keep the peace in Gotham, but tonight, there was nowhere Bruce would rather be than at home, comfortable on the couch with his future bride.

However, this was important. Amara knew and understood that, and had actually sent him off with the order to 'kick butt.' He fully intended to do so.

As he'd expected, the criminals of Gotham City had gotten bolder as word spread that The Joker was out for good. Most had probably heard that The Joker's hideout had been trashed, and that The Batman had taken out the makeup-caked madman. The bolder or more desperate criminals were going to take advantage of one less crazed maniac on the streets, so it was time for him to go out and take them down before people got hurt, or worse.

In that one night, Bruce took down a drug-dealing gang, saved several citizens from being mugged, and helped a little girl find her lost puppy (that last one an entirely new experience for him). When he finally managed to produce the pup, which had gotten stuck between a heavy box and a brick wall, the child had thanked him and given him the cutest smile he'd ever seen.

It was a good thing that had been the last good deed of the night, because it gave Bruce something to think about: namely, did he want to have children with Amara?

If he'd asked himself that question weeks ago, the answer would have been 'no.' Not long ago, children had seemed out of the question for him, because he didn't want the risk of them going through what he had growing up. Weeks ago, Bruce had believed his future to be cold and lonely.

Now, things were different. He had a wonderful fiancé he loved, and who loved him in return. With that child's smile in his mind, Bruce began to wonder about the children he and Amara might have. Would they take after their mother, or be more like him? He really hoped that they took after Amara, both in looks and temperament. Sweet, spunky, but good-natured and open was what he imagined them to be; definitely not like the vigilante who was their father!

But would he continue being Batman after their children were born? Amara would say 'yes,' but he wanted to be there for their kids, not off all the time, fighting crime.

And yet, Amara would want a safe city to raise them in. Since Bruce liked being the Caped Crusader, continuing to be Batman would be something they both wanted.

Heading back towards the penthouse, he felt a smile creeping onto his lips. Right now, the future was looking very bright indeed.

* * *

AN: I hope that this wasn't too boring for everyone. These first few chapters will be about the wedding, the wedding itself, and life a few weeks afterwards. The action and excitement won't be happening for a little while, so be warned. Thanks so much for reading, and please review!


	2. The Big Day

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: For those of you who find wedding stuff boring: this might not be the chapter for you. Feel free to skim through it, if you like, if only to not miss anything later on. I'm going to try and get it out of the way and everything. Please let me know what you think by reviewing. Thanks a bunch!

**Chapter 2: The Big Day**:

Walking through the library's back doors, Amara was both groggy and grumpy. It was a pity she wasn't a coffee drinker; she'd welcome a cup of it right then.

Honestly, if it wasn't one thing, it was another. Between forming a list of wedding guests and trying to figure out how to tell her parents she was getting married, this whole wedding thing had her on edge already. And this was only a few days after their engagement!

First, the rich, famous, and important people that had to be invited to her and Bruce's wedding. These were the people who were expected to be there, and who, in turn, kept an eye on their mailbox to see if they got an invitation to the billionaire's wedding. As of right now, list already covered a full page and a half, and there were likely to be more added on later.

Second, Amara's attention was on the fact that no one in her family knew she'd had a boyfriend, much less that she was engaged. She spent the past forty-eight hours trying to decide _when_ to tell her parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents that she was getting married, and _how_ she would do it. Phone calls were needed in regards to her parents (they'd never forgive her if she told him in a letter), but e-mail would have to do for everyone else. It'd save a lot of money on long-distance calls, too.

All-in-all, it was very boring stuff, but it had to be done. At least Bruce was able to escape some of it by heading off to his private office at the penthouse, claiming he needed to do some business work. Amara had no such excuse, but at least she had Alfred to help calm her down and give her aspirin when her head began to pound.

At night, things weren't any less exhausting. Oh, the evenings started out peaceful, with her enjoying some "quiet time" watching a movie or television with Bruce. But when it was time for the lights to go out, her heart leaped into her throat and anxiety began to take hold. That was when Bruce donned his armor, cape, and cowl to became Batman, and Amara always had a hard time sleeping when her fiancé put his life in danger.

Even now, she was having a tough time adjusting. She did the best she could, but Alfred had been right to say that it would take a while to absorb the idea of what Bruce did while she was sleeping –or at least, when she was supposed to be sleeping. How could she possibly rest easy when the man she loved was putting his life on the line every night?

Sighing, Amara rubbed her eyes and headed into the library, grateful that it was too early for patrons to be there, and that she'd managed to get a _little_ rest the night before. Alfred had probably slipped something into her tea to relax her, so she'd have to thank him for that later.

"Good morning!" Julie exclaimed while skipping up the hallway to her. When she saw Amara's face, she froze. "Oh, my gosh, you look terrible!"

Heaving another sigh, she rolled her eyes and smiled. Only Julie could be this chipper and awake at this hour. Where did she get the energy?

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much better," Amara sarcastically replied, making her way into the back rooms of the library, eager to store her belongings in her assigned locker.

The blonde smiled and followed close behind, standing by to watch as her friend tucked everything away and secured the little locker door. So far, they were the only two people in the library, besides security. Since the mornings were so quiet, everyone else arrived long after the doors opened; the head librarian and those just a step under her would come in whenever they felt like it.

Julie tapped her toes impatiently and nudged Amara's shoulder with a finger. "Well? Come on, spill! What happened in Hawaii? And don't lie to me –I saw the papers, and that you were frolicking on the beach with Bruce Wayne! Wait, never mind about Hawaii, what happened with The Joker? I can't believe he took you again! How'd you escape? Was it Batman, or did the police finally get off their butts and save you?"

Amara chuckled and swatted Julie's finger away. "Hawaii was incredibly fun. Bruce is a very sweet man, and generous to a fault when it comes to entertaining someone in the tropics." She grinned and began to walk to her spot at the desk. "The Joker was just as traumatizing as before, and yes, it was Batman who saved me, _again_."

Taking a seat at the desk, Amara nearly burst out laughing at the raised eyebrows on her friend's face. Julie's green eyes were wide and skeptical, as though she couldn't believe what she'd just heard.

"_Bruce_?" the blonde drawled. "Since when do you call him Bruce? Wasn't he always 'Mr. Wayne' or something before you went away? When did the two of you get so cozy?"

Amara smiled. "Well, let's just say that the romantic air in Hawaii does wonders, and that the tabloids weren't far off about what was happening between me and Bruce."

With that, she held up her left hand and grinned as Julie squealed in surprise.

* * *

Standing before the mirror, Amara took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. Everything was set, and all she had to do was go out there and get married.

"Oh, jeez, Amara, you haven't even finished putting on the dress!" Julie exclaimed as she flew into the room. "Thank goodness your mom sent me in here to check up on you."

Amara threw her a skeptical look. "My mom sent you?"

Julie rolled her eyes as she tried to zip up the back of the wedding dress. "Alright, I bullied your mom into staying downstairs while I came to check in on you," she retorted. "I know how snippy you mom can be, and the last thing you need is a lecture on your wedding day!"

Chuckling, Amara stood perfectly still as her friend zipped her up and began fluffing the skirt. "Don't make it too puffy, Jewels," she warned. "I need to be able to walk down the aisle, after all; first with my dad, then with my husband."

Emerald eyes twinkled up at her. "Trust me, honey, your skirt isn't _that_ big!"

It really wasn't, but it was larger than anything Amara had ever worn, so it seemed quite big, in her mind. The gown was actually more like a tall, thin champagne glass tipped upside down: narrow at the bodice, then flowing down into a slim, flaring skirt that had a graceful train. Over the white satin of the dress was a sheer layer of white lace covered in crystals and beads. The bodice had a layer of lace as well, with a flower pattern of tiny seed pearls threaded to it. The sleeves were off-the-shoulder and as wide as four fingers pressed together. It was a beautiful gown.

"I wish I hadn't let Bruce talk me into getting this dress," Amara muttered as Julie set the veil on her head. "I mean, the man lets the two of us plan and coordinate with that evil wedding planner to make today perfect, but he wouldn't let me get the dress that I wanted!"

Julie grinned and pushed in a few pins to secure the veil in its place. Amara's hair was pulled back into a half-bun, with the ends of her hair curled and flowing down to the nape of her neck. Little white silk flowers were threaded around and through it, which would create a lovely glowing white effect after the veil was removed before the reception.

"Well, it didn't help that you took that butler of his along with you," the blonde quipped. "Alfred was probably under orders to push you into the most expensive wedding gown you could find, so that's what he did. The last thing he could do was refuse his boss!"

"But I'm his future boss…sort of. I could have picked my own dress!" Amara insisted as she reached for the perfume bottle on the dresser. "And look at what else Bruce is making me wear!"

Her friend and maid-of-honor snorted. "Yeah, how terrible that he made you buy an expensive bottle of perfume _just_ for today, _and_ he gave you a necklace of diamonds and pearls imported from Japan, which has the finest pearl company in the world. How you must be suffering!"

Blushing, Amara shut up and picked up the glittering necklace, handing it to Julie so that it could be clipped into place. Her friend was right –Bruce had done so much to make her feel special this day; the least she could do was wear all of it for him.

"Now, your mom is downstairs, looking proud and arrogant as can be," Julie chattered on as she pulled Amara out of her seat so that she could check her makeup. "Probably because her daughter is marrying a multi-billionaire, of course, but it might also be because of the flashy strand pearls Bruce gave her."

Amara chuckled. For the past two weeks, Bruce had tried extremely hard to impress her parents. Her father was the sort of man who knew a good-hearted person when he saw one, so when her dad and fiancé met, she hadn't been worried. Bruce had taken a liking to Richard Thomas immediately, and vice versa.

The same could not be said about her mother, Kaitlin. Kate, as she was called, was known for being overly fake-nice to people she didn't know or didn't like, and so Amara had warned Bruce about it beforehand. She'd also given advice on how to handle her mother, and he'd taken her words to heart. The moment he met her, Bruce presented Mrs. Thomas with a pearl necklace as a show of generosity, as well as to impress her. This indeed had caught Kate by surprise, and immediately brought Bruce onto her good side.

"Of course, it might also be because of the house you're going to live in," Julie put in as she rubbed a dab of rouge onto Amara's cheeks.

Ah, yes, the infamous Wayne Manor. Construction had been completed a month ago, so when the dust had settled and the last of the furniture hauled in, both Bruce and Amara had moved in immediately. She'd instantly fallen in love with the house (or, rather, mansion), and had decided to move their outdoor ceremony from a nearby local beach to the backyard of Wayne Manor. Of course, the manor's backyard was the size of a football field, and it was private property, so the media reporters weren't able to "attend" without getting arrested. Large white tents provided privacy, a dry place for the guests, and kept the helicopters away.

Settling Amara back into her chair, Julie sighed and set aside the makeup she'd been holding in order to smooth out her own dress. It was lilac, the same color as the bridesmaids dresses that presently adorned Amara's numerous female cousins. She'd wanted to include them all, but decided to just have the four oldest ones as bridesmaids and the youngest as a flower girl. Since Bruce had no family, other than Alfred, this was fine with him.

Julie stopped smoothing her dress when she saw the grin on Amara's face. "What are you grinning about?" she asked. "Well, aside from the fact that its your wedding day."

"Oh, nothing," the bride-to-be replied innocently. "Just remembering the day I introduce Bruce to the family."

Green eyes glittered in amusement as Julie smirked at her. "Oh, yes, I remember you telling me about that. You really shouldn't have sprung them on him like that. You must have nearly fifty family members all together, plus your mother's mom, and your dad's mother, so it's no wonder Bruce almost had a heart attack when they showed up at his front door!" She laughed. "It's a good thing Wayne Manor is so big, otherwise it'd cost a fortune to put them up in a hotel in the city!"

"Yeah, but his face was priceless," Amara said dreamily. "So I guess I got back at him for making me get this dress."

A knock at the door made them both freeze.

"Miss Thomas?" called a cold, snarky voice through the wood. "Is everything alright?"

Both women rolled their eyes as Amara replied, "Yes, we'll be out in a few minutes! Just make sure everything's set and everyone is seated!"

"Yes, miss," the voice reluctantly replied, as though it'd hoped that the answer would be a negative one.

Julie waited until she was sure they were alone again. "Man, why Bruce hired that woman is beyond me," she muttered, patting her hair to be sure it was still up in its bun. "I mean, the woman is an ice queen clad in the latest skirt suits."

Amara shrugged. "She's the best wedding planner in the city, if not New England. Bruce thought she could help out, and you have to admit, she did manage to get everything done." She reached out and patted her friend's hand. "Still, if you hadn't been there, I'd have totally lost it. Thanks for standing beside me through all this, and for threatening to punch her face in if she didn't give into what I wanted."

"Hey, that's what friends are for," Julie said with a wave of her hand. "Besides, she had been hired by _Bruce Wayne_ for his fiancée. If you wanted everything a certain way, her job was to do it. She isn't the only wedding planner in Gotham, and I'm sure the other planners were sitting by their phones, waiting for you to call the minute you needed them."

That was very true. Miss Chelsea Dalton, wedding planner to the rich and famous, was not the only planner in Gotham, and when Julie had reminded her of that fact, the "ice queen" had been quick to give into Amara's wishes when it came to the reception and the ceremony.

Of course, Bruce had hired Miss Dalton with good intentions. In theory, this was supposed to leave Amara able to spend her time working worry-free at the library. Sadly, this wasn't so; soon after the engagement, her days had become full of reporters, cameras, and ordinary citizens begging for details about what the papers were calling "Gotham's Wedding of the Year." Security did what they could, but the library was a public building, so many people snuck in and tried to approach her. It had been incredibly frustrating, but Amara had dealt with it by sending inquiring minds off to the press secretary of Wayne Enterprises.

Things weren't much better when, after a long day at the library, she would arrive home at night to find a stack of messages from Miss Dalton, asking annoying questions about every single tiny detail she could think of. Sometimes it made Amara want to scream in frustration. Thankfully, she had Alfred, who managed to calm her enough to take care of everything, but there was only so much stress she could handle.

And like any good man worried about his fiancée, Bruce did what he could to help her keep her sanity. Like Amara, he spent his days at work, but he came home at night to help with what he could in regards to the wedding. After they took care of those tiny wedding details, he made sure she ate some of the wonderful supper that Alfred whipped up for them, then took her into the living room for some quiet time together.

In the darkness of the room, they sometimes watched television or a movie, but mostly they just sat and listened to soft music, talked, or sat on the couch, savoring the silence. It was the only quiet time each of them had during the day, and they savored every moment of it. Amara particularly loved those precious moments, wrapped snuggly in Bruce's arms as the quiet settled around them.

"Hello, Earth to Amara!" A hand waved in front of her eyes.

She jerked in surprise. "What?"

Julie rolled her eyes. "It's your wedding day, remember? Come on, its time to go!"

Amara immediately felt like she was going to be sick.

* * *

Standing before the Justice of the Peace, Bruce felt himself sweating like mad inside his tuxedo. Not that he was uncomfortable, mind you –after all, he'd worn a tux hundreds of times, so he was used to it. He just wasn't used to wearing it in front of so many friends and future in-laws.

"Calm down, sir," Alfred whispered from his place at Bruce's back. "Take deep breaths, too, or else you'll faint."

Today, the Englishman wasn't working as hired help; on this special occasion, he was Bruce's best man, and his rock to lean on. He was helping Bruce pull through the most nerve-wracking day of his life, and Bruce mentally swore to buy him a very large present when this was all over.

'_Three months of planning, where does the time go_?' he wondered, loosening his tie.

Looking around the tent, Bruce smiled. Amara had done a wonderful job in choosing the color scheme for the ceremony and the reception. All along the aisle were large bouquets of white roses and bluebells hung on white pillars that stood hip-high lining the rows of chairs. The bouquets of the bridesmaids and maid-of-honor were of the same colors, though there was also a blue-tinted rose at the center of each bouquet.

Inside the large ballroom of Wayne Manor, where the reception would be held, similar wreaths and clusters of flowers adorned the walls and tables. The china was white with blue designs painted on it, trimmed with gold. It all looked spectacular.

Suddenly, the small orchestra in the corner struck up the wedding march, and Bruce snapped his attention back to the present. Looking down the aisle, he felt his heart and stomach drop to the ground. Looking past the line of bridesmaids, he focused on the figure in white, swallowing hard as the woman he loved floated towards him on the arm of her father.

Richard Thomas looked every inch the proud father-of-the-bride as he slowly led his daughter towards the altar. Bruce was extremely happy about that; he really wanted her parents to be happy with him, the man who would be their son-in-law.

And if Bruce thought his was nervous before, he was even more so when he saw the bright smile on his bride's face. Brown eyes sparkled up at him, practically glowing with happiness as she placed her hand in his. Bruce felt his stomach and heart jump off the floor and into their proper places, where they hung heavily as the Justice began the service.

* * *

Inside, Amara felt her stomach quiver with nervousness as the Justice, a short, balding round man with a friendly face, began the words that would soon bind her and Bruce together in marriage. Her heart beat faster as he went through the ceremony, asking Bruce if he would have her as his wife, for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, till death did them part.

Hazel eyes turned to meet hers, burning with the soft fire of love and protectiveness that came from both of his façades: Bruce Wayne and Batman. Both of them swore to keep those vows forever, and she had no doubt that he meant them.

"And do you, Amara Rose Thomas, take this man…" The Justice went on, and when he stopped, she smiled softly up at her groom, and answered.

"I do," she whispered, tears of happiness prickling her eyes as she looked into Bruce's eyes. She could feel him slip the ring onto her finger, joining the diamond engagement ring already resting there. She returned the gesture with a ring for him as well.

"Then, by the powers vested in me by the city of Gotham, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the Justice declared to the massive crowd. "You may now kiss the bride."

Amara barely had time to blink before Bruce swept her up in his arms and kissed her, the air ringing with cheers, music, and whistles.

* * *

Swinging gently to the music of the DJ, Amara sighed and pressed her head to her husband's chest. She could hear his heartbeat over the rhythm of the music, and to her, there was no sound sweeter than that.

"Happy?" he whispered into her ear, clutching her tighter against him. This was probably because a few of his bachelor friends had tried to dance with her, and Bruce was not thrilled about it.

"Of course," she murmured with a sigh. "Are you sure we have to leave soon? I rather like dancing like this with you."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his body and tickling her senses. "Well, we have photos to take for our wedding album. Then we have to decide which one will be sent to the newspapers. And when that's done, there's the honeymoon…"

Oh, dear, she'd forgotten about that. Bruce had told her that it was a secret, but that it would be a very pleasant surprise. Amara wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

But first things first: the song was coming to an end, providing an opportunity to get out of there. The guests were all either drunk, stuffed to bursting with expensive food, or ready to break out dancing on the floor when an upbeat song came on.

Amara sighed. "Well, let's go get this over with."

Bruce chuckled and led her towards the doorway, where a rather young professional photographer was waiting for them. They'd decided to take the photos at the foot of the Manor's grand stairway, which made an elegant backdrop. Lights and the cameras were set up, and the photographer was there, grinning like an idiot; he was probably thrilled to be the first and only person allowed to photograph Mr. and Mrs. Bruce Wayne.

For half an hour, both Amara and her husband followed directions on where to stand, how to tilt their heads, where to put their hands and arms, and how widely they should smile. Rolls and rolls of film were taken, but the last photo was the one that would be sent to the local papers and tabloids.

"Okay, we're done!" the young man quipped. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne."

With sighs of relief, Bruce and Amara raced for the limo waiting outside and jumped in, the two of them instantly exchanging kisses and passionate caresses until they reached the airport. Not half an hour later, on Bruce's private plane, the two of them joined a very exclusive club, and enjoyed every minute of it.

* * *

"Aw, such a cute couple!" crooned a young nurse, her voice chipper, but high and rather annoying.

"I'll say," muttered her boss. "That is one lucky woman, marrying a man who's not only a billionaire, but a handsome one, too! Some women have all the luck."

"Says that the new Mrs. Wayne was wearing a designer one-of-a-kind dress fitted just for her," the younger woman whined in envy. "How does a woman go from being a spinster librarian to the wife of Bruce Wayne?"

The older nurse chuckled. "Oh, don't be silly. People like Amara Thomas give the rest of us hope that some handsome prince charming will come and carry us off to a far away castle."

Her younger counterpart sniffed and folded up the paper before tucking it under her arm. "Well, let's head off for coffee. I'm thirsty and need the caffeine."

As she left the room, the older nurse turned and looked at the bound, unconscious man in the bed. "I wonder what he'd say if he knew that the girl he lusted after was married to another man?" she muttered.

Perhaps it was best that he was in a coma. She could only imagine what would happen if he were to wake and find out!

* * *

AN: Sorry, no sex in this story! I'm terrible at those kinds of scenes, so if you want adult content, please head elsewhere or use your imaginations. Thanks for reading, and please review!


	3. A Public Face

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own anything related to _**Batman**_ or the universe(s) he is in. They belong to other, far richer people than me.

AN: I hope that everyone enjoys the chapter, and will review. Thanks!

**Chapter 3: A Public Face****:**

The sounds of a bustling library were music to her ears: softly spoken words, the quiet giggles of children, the occasional squeak of a roller chair or ladder, and the whisper of cloth as someone rose from their chairs to head elsewhere. This quiet symphony was only disrupted by the occasional dropped book or someone telling another person to 'shush.' Amara smiled and sat back in her chair, savoring it all.

Life as the new Mrs. Wayne was a complete turnaround from the way she'd been living before. Of course, Amara thought that the biggest change would be living in a mansion instead of a penthouse. She was wrong. Everything was a lot more complicated now that she was part of Bruce's upper-class society, and it took a lot of getting used to.

Not that it was all bad, of course. She did live in an incredibly huge, richly decorated mansion, and although she loved the place, Amara couldn't imagine how Bruce's late mother had managed to live there without getting bored and lonely. However, Alfred did explain that Martha Wayne had had a housekeeper and a few maids around constantly, so she probably didn't get too lonely. Plus, Thomas Wayne had been a doctor, so he'd also been home whenever possible, and there had Bruce to look after, so perhaps things hadn't been so bad back then.

In this day and age, however, Amara was anything but the traditional stay-at-home housewife that Martha Wayne had been. She wanted a life outside of Wayne Manor, and since she and Bruce had no children (yet), there was only one thing that kept her going, and that was the public library.

"Mrs. Wayne, would you mind going over this list of books for purchasing and telling me if you disagree with them?"

Happy to oblige, Amara took the clipboard and scanned it over with her eyes. Most were children's books, with the odd exception of a teenage or adult novel, but they were alright. She squiggled her initials at the bottom and nodded her head in approval, earning a smile from the new volunteer before the young man scurried into the back room.

Sighing, Amara looked around the library in longing. She was no longer allowed to sit at the central desk full-time; now she was just a volunteer, though all the employees treated her as though she were royalty. It was easy to see why the board of directors had decided it would be best to let her go as a paid employee.

"You are married to the chief benefactor of the library," Mrs. Wilson had gently informed her. "This produces a conflict of interest for everyone. As the wife of Bruce Wayne, it puts you at a distinct advantage over the others, and therefore, we cannot keep you on as paid personnel."

Actually, they meant that if Amara wanted to "abuse her power," she could simply complain to Bruce about something and get 'fixed' her way. She could even get an employee fired, if she wanted to. Not that Amara was like that, but the directors thought it was best to cover all their bases now instead of later – after all, a fired employee might just decide to take their vengeance out on the library in the form of a lawsuit, and that was the last thing they needed.

They were, however, willing to compromise on the issue. Considering whom she was married to, and how popular she was with the patrons, it was proposed that Amara become an unpaid volunteer, working whatever hours were convenient for her. Since it allowed her to remain at her beloved library, she agreed to this wholeheartedly.

The patrons were only too happy about this decision. Many had been afraid that, with her new marriage and leap up in society, Amara would think herself above her librarian position and quit. Their relief at the news of her remaining was clearly evident in the letters and cards sent in through the mail, which were obviously another reason why Amara had been asked to stay, since loosing patrons was out of the question. Also, a drop in patrons would lead to a lack of funding, so with Amara still working at the library, there was no doubt about the library's financial security and stability.

'_Well, they wouldn't be where they are now if they didn't consider the amount of money they'd be losing with me gone_,' Amara thought, rolling her eyes.

Sadly, her volunteer work only pleased the library patrons and its board. There were many others who thought that all of her good efforts were unseemly and degrading for a Mrs. Bruce Wayne, and it caused a flood of gossip to go on behind her back amongst the higher socialites.

The cause of all the gossip were the matriarchs of the best and richest families in Gotham, a group of older women who believed it was inappropriate for Mrs. Wayne to spend every weekday at volunteer work, even if it was at a library. The old women believed that, with her new-found wealth and marriage, Amara Wayne should put her husband's money to good use and donate _that_ instead of so much of her time. Even worse, they didn't even approve of Amara using a common public library to borrow books! After all, Bruce hardly used a public library, but that was because he was busy with work and his, uh, nightly activities. Whenever he wanted something new to read, he usually bought the books, read them, and later donated the used texts to local libraries, or to charities that helped fight illiteracy.

But in the end, what the social butterflies thought about her actions was of no concern to Amara. The only opinions that mattered to her were Bruce's and Alfred's, and if they approved of her works at the library, why should she care what a group of rich snobs thought about her?

The clock beside her chimed the hour, and she saw that it was time to head home. Alfred was bound to be waiting for her, and since she didn't have to do any cleaning or locking up, Amara was free to gather her things and head out the door, which was just what she did. With a nod to a few patrons, a smile to a couple volunteers, and a smile to Julie, who'd taken her place at the front desk, Amara was out the door and treated to Alfred's warm smile.

"Had a good day, then, did we?" he asked while opening the car door.

"Average," she replied with a sigh as she got in and settled into the soft leather seats. "I just want to go home and relax for the night."

Shutting her door, Alfred slid into the driver's seat, then glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "I hope that you remember the Moonlight Banquet tonight," he pointedly reminded her. "You're expected to attend, since you agreed to go two months ago."

Falling back into the seat with a groan, Amara closed her eyes and wished she didn't have to. "Why do I let Bruce talk me into going to those things?" she whined. "They're a waste of dresses, makeup, and time. At the rate we're going, I'll have two huge closets full of gowns before the year is up!"

"I know you don't like them, but it's expected," Alfred told her with a smile. "Master Bruce doesn't like going to them, either, but with you at his side, you've made them more bearable then they used to be. I know he's happy having you with him, if only to have someone lovely to talk, laugh and dance with."

Amara shook her head, knowing he was right about everything. As Mrs. Wayne, she was expected to attend tons of parties, balls, and other social functions with her husband. Although Amara liked to dance, eat, and drink the night away with Bruce, it wasn't the parties themselves that were the problem. Actually, it was the expense of dressing up for it that always annoyed her, not to mention the arrogant rich folks she had to talk to. The two went hand-in-hand, the dressing up and the rich people, because she had to dress in designer styles to impress the those who made up Bruce's social circle, and she hated spending so much money on a dress she could only wear once. Bruce didn't mind the expense, but Amara hated seeing such wonderful garments go to waste. Donating them was an option, but few in the poorer communities wanted a Chanel or Gucci dress, because they had no place to wear it to.

Oh, well. It was time to keep up appearances, and it was for Bruce's sake, since his business partners would be there. She could do that for the man she loved. After all he'd given to her, a little time and makeup was the least she could do for him.

* * *

As expected, Amara found Bruce and herself the center of attention as soon as they stepped out of the limo. Alfred had given her a few words of encouragement, but they didn't hold up very long under the flashing bulbs of the photographers. Lord, how she hated these vultures; they always hung around so they could get a dozen pictures of someone rich, famous, or both, sometimes following their target until they were inside. It was very annoying.

Beside her, Bruce kept a firm grip on her hand and gave a tight smile to the paparazzi. Amara did the same, though it pained her to do it. Even after months of being married to Bruce, she was still considered fascinating by Gotham, and everyone wanted to see what kind of person she was.

Finally, she and her husband moved past the throng of media people and into the large ballroom. Tonight, the party was being held at the Governor's Hotel, the most exclusive and expensive hotel in Gotham, so the place was packed with the crème-de-la-crème of society, film, music, and politics. The men were almost uniform in their tuxedos, but the women were an array of designer gowns and sparkling jewelry, some of them stunning while others looked absurd.

The sight of all this would have impressed Amara, had she not become used to it. Hell, she was even used to wearing designer gowns now, though she'd never like doing it. The floor-length black velvet gown she now wore hugged her in all the right places, and the off-the-shoulder sleeves were an elegant touch. With her hair pulled into a bun at the top of her head and a diamond necklace around her neck, she was a match for every other woman here.

Bruce leaned closer. "Would it be cliché for me to say that you're the most beautiful woman here tonight?"

As he murmured into her ear, the warmth of his breath tickled her skin, causing her to shiver. Amara knew that he did that on purpose; Bruce loved making her shiver like that, since he was the only one who could do it, and _she_ liked the little suggestive look he got whenever he was able to cover her skin in goose bumps.

"Hmm, not cliché, exactly, but typical of a wealthy man complimenting a woman he's with," she murmured back. "You know how rich people can be."

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her ear. "I do know, but unlike them, I have something far better than money."

Bruce squeezed her hand in emphasis, letting her know exactly what he valued most. Amara smiled at the sweet gesture and squeezed back as they entered the mass of people, nodding occasionally to people she recognized and smiling at those she didn't. No doubt she'd be familiar with more of them before the end of the night; they'd make sure of that by treating her liked their new best friend.

However, Amara knew that Bruce didn't want her to be actual friends with these people. Most of them only wanted to be seen talking to Mrs. Wayne, the billionaire's wife, not Amara the person. It was their social connection to Bruce that they wanted, and anything else that existed between them and these 'friends' would be as false as the noses on their Botox-filled faces.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Amara plastered on a fake smile and tried to look like she was enjoying herself. Given the choice, she'd rather be at home with her husband, curled up on the couch with a book while he skimmed over business papers or cleaned up his Batman gear. When it was pitch black outside, he would kiss her soundly and warmly, then head into the secret caves that held his suit and gadgets. She wouldn't see him again until dawn, when he slipped into bed beside her and wrapped a muscled arm around her waist before drifting into sleep.

'_Well, he doesn't __**always**__ go directly to sleep when he gets home_,' she thought with an inward smirk. '_If he did, I'd be very upset with him_.'

"Oh, damn it, that's the last thing I need," Bruce muttered, clearly frustrated.

Amara turned her head. "What is it, what's wrong?"

He jerked his head at the approaching group of beaming men in tuxes. "Business men who want to talk about nothing but stocks, buyouts, and other things I've no interest in tonight. Why can't I have one party with you that doesn't involve business talk?"

She gave him a sympathetic look and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I know, but we'll make it, like we always do. Just be sure to find me soon, before the Gorgons chew me up and spit me out?"

Bruce glanced around in search of a safe place to stash her, preferably away from the harsh words of the social matriarchs and their spoiled daughters. Most of them were still sore that he'd married for love instead of money, and had grudges against Amara for "hooking" him. They wore their charming faces in front of Bruce, obviously hoping that he'd keep his social connections with them, but still praying that he'd see what they saw as a 'mistake' in marriage and divorce his wife to marry someone socially acceptable.

'_Never happen_,' Amara thought with a smile, her eyes watching Bruce put on his 'protective face.'

"Ah, there we go," he said with a jerk of his head. "The corner by the painting of a woman in green looks quiet and empty. Go hide out there, and I'll try and meet you in fifteen minutes."

He wouldn't live up to that promise, but she didn't expect him to. Those businessmen would take at least half an hour to get through what they wanted to talk about, and then they'd wait for Bruce's reply before arguing for their own opinions. She'd see him in an hour, if she was lucky, but that was fine. As long as he promised to find her, she could hold her own until then.

Resigned to her fate, Amara headed towards the appetizer table to see what they had. The food was always tasty, pricy stuff, but rarely filling. She would have to eat a lot to fill up, but if she did, people would start talking about her overeating, and that would cause talk in the papers she would have to deal with. However, if she _didn't_ eat anything, they'd talk about eating disorders, which was just as bad. But nibbling a bit of everything was alright, and if someone asked her how something tasted, she'd at least be able to give them an honest answer.

Picking up a small plate, she selected a few light delicacies consisting of vegetables, shrimp or fruit, snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, then set up shop in the corner. Luckily, everyone was presently too busy greeting newcomers or friends to notice her, which was just how Amara liked it; she would be far more alert and ready to face other people with something in her stomach.

When her plate was empty and her glass half gone, Amara felt her head clear a bit. It was then that she noticed several women her age gathering around her, clearly intent on trading gossip with her. It didn't matter to her what was going on in the lives of the wealthy socialites, but they assumed that everyone wanted to know everyone else's business, so they'd talk to her about things whether she wanted to hear it or not.

Biting back a sigh, Amara put on a polite smile and kept her mouth shut, knowing that if she opened her mouth, she'd say something regrettable. As long as she kept quiet, the other women would talk over her head and around her, only expecting the occasional nod or agreeing sound, but not more than that. If she were lucky, Bruce would rescue her before they started prying into _her_ personal life.

With one ear open, she took a sip of her champagne and raised her eyebrows in pretend surprise agreement to one woman's complaint about her new car. Apparently it was the right response, because the woman, a redhead Amara didn't know or recognize, continued talking along that same subject, not pausing except to breathe.

"But, anyway, Walter is sure to get me a better sports car next week," the redhead said with a sigh. "At least our seasonal trip to Rome was fabulous. What about you, Veronica? How was Australia?"

A blonde rolled her eyes. "Oh, it was miserable! Did you know that when it's summer here it's winter down there? James and I couldn't do _anything_ we wanted! It was frustrating!"

"At least your husband takes you out of the country," complained a brunette. "Thomas only likes the Hamptons, so we were there for the past few weeks! I'm so behind on the latest news, it's embarrassing!"

The three of them turned to look at Amara, but it was the blonde, Veronica, that spoke. "I'm sorry, we didn't ask your name," she said airily, as though her rudeness didn't matter (which, to her, it probably didn't). "That's a lovely diamond necklace, by the way. It looks _very_ expensive. Did your husband buy you that for the party?"

Plastering on a smile, Amara donned her politest public face. "Yes, he did. But then, he really tends to be overly-generous when it comes to that sort of thing."

"And who is your husband?" the redhead asked, curiosity gleaming in her blue eyes.

Well, that was new. These women had to have been _very_ out of touch if they didn't know who she was and who she was married to. Socialites prided themselves on being on top of the gossip channels, so these three had probably been gone for quite some time to not recognize her.

Amara gave a small smile and hoped that they didn't turn their fangs on her when she told them. "I'm married to Bruce Wayne."

Eyes widened and jaws dropped as they stared at her, first in shock, then in utter disbelief. Amara could practically feel the air changing from friendly indifference to hostile and angry, which didn't bode well for her.

"_You_ married Bruce Wayne," the brunette asked, her face and voice full of skepticism. "The billionaire playboy of Gotham? You must be joking!"

The others began to snicker, and Amara felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She'd seen this before in high school, and knew that whatever came next wouldn't be pretty. Some predators liked to attack in groups, and socialites were often the same way when it came to ganging up on someone they thought was lying to them.

"There you are, sweetheart," declared a familiar, and very welcome, male voice. "Sorry I'm late, I was looking everywhere for you."

All four women turned to see a smiling Bruce joined them. The other females put on their most flirtatious airs, all of which quickly disappeared as soon as he came up to Amara's side and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"I apologize, ladies," he addressed them, "but Lucius Fox has been dying to spend some time with my wife, and I promised him a lot of conversation time. Please excuse us."

Walking away with her husband, Amara couldn't help but feel smug as the superior looks on all three women's faces vanished, replaced by surprise and jealousy. She definitely owed Bruce when they got home.

* * *

Glancing over to his left, Bruce couldn't help but smile as his wife dozed softly against his shoulder. She was exhausted, he knew, and he felt guilty about it. He really shouldn't have dragged her out tonight, not after work on a Friday, but he'd had no choice. If the two of them didn't appear in public together, people would start thinking there were marital problems between them. He'd learned the hard way that once the gossip started flowing, it was hard to stop.

Still, it was rare that social events were held on Friday nights, and she'd appeared to have had a good time, so it was alright. Lucius Fox, bless him, kept Amara amused and talking through most of the evening, and that made them all happy.

'_Now that I think about it, Amara has never really had a conversation with Lucius_,' Bruce realized.

And it was quite true. Lucius was always so busy, he rarely attended parties. When he did, his time and attention were usually occupied by other businessmen or scientists who wanted to chat with him. Bruce could talk with him, but then, he was Lucius's boss, so Lucius had to make time for anything Bruce had to say. Amara, however, had been forced to wait until Bruce had taken the time to bring them both together.

'_I'll have to change that in the future_,' he mentally noted. '_And I'll make it up to her_.'

"How was it, sir?" Alfred whispered from the driver's seat. "Not too bad, I hope."

Bruce grinned and gently pressed his cheek to the top of his wife's head. "It was fine, Alfred, thank you. She was trapped by a few of the nastier pieces of work, but survived it long enough for me to rescue her before things turned ugly."

The older man nodded in approval. "Very good, sir. I'd hate to see her hurt by some jealous shrews who have nothing better to do than make others feel miserable."

"Well, Lucius Fox was there, and he was entertaining enough to last the whole evening, so it all worked out." Bruce sighed and hugged Amara closer to his side. "I just want to get her home and into bed."

"I heard that," said a soft voice from under his cheek. "And what are you planning to do once you get me home and into bed, hmm?"

He grinned, loving how she was teasing him. "That's for me to know, and you to find out," he muttered back. "And I won't be leaving to patrol tonight, so you've got me all to yourself."

Amara tilted her head back as Bruce moved his own so that he could look down at her. "Well, _that_ sounds promising," she whispered, her lips hovering near his. "But in the meantime…"

Bruce instantly lost himself as she kissed him, a promise of what was to come the minute they were alone together. He could hardly wait to get home.

* * *

AN: I know, not a lot of Bruce, but more of Bruce later on, I promise! Please be kind and review! Thanks!


	4. A Pleasant Surprise

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: I've decided on this story's fate. After much thinking, I have chosen to continue on with this fic. I took the flame/review much harder than I should have, thanks to the very bad day at work that preceded it, but I've managed to calm down and make my way through it. With a clear head, I've chosen to keep writing this story.

To those who say my work is boring: you are entitled to your opinion, but to you I say, "_If you don't like it_, _don't read it_." No one is forcing you to read this story. If you want more action, excitement, or something else that you believe is lacking in this story, feel free to search elsewhere for your preferences. I will be sad to see you go, but it is _my_ story, _my_ character, and _my_ plotline, so they'll flow together as I see fit. That's how I roll, so you can either stick with this story and deal with it, or leave. It is your choice.

To those who gave encouraging reviews and told me to keep going: thank you for reading and sticking with me. I hope you enjoy this chapter and will review. Thank you very much.

**Chapter 4: A Pleasant Surprise:**

Gripping the edge of the toilet, Amara heaved once more and felt ready to pass out. Behind her shoulder, Bruce held back her hair with one hand and rubbed her back with the other. It really was very sweet of him, and she hoped he knew how much she appreciated it, considering how early in the morning it was.

"Are you alright?" he whispered once she'd stopped heaving.

She nodded, swallowing hard to try and sooth her irritated throat. "I'm okay," she said, her voice a tad bit rough. "I think I caught the stomach flu from that new intern at the library."

Bruce sighed and helped her sit back onto the floor. "I don't understand why people insist on going to work when they're sick," he grumbled as he stopped rubbing her back in order to grab a towel.

A knock sounded on the bathroom door. "Sir? Amara? Are you both alright?" Alfred called through the closed door. "I heard the toilet flush several times, and grew worried."

"I'm fine, Alfred," Bruce called back. "Amara is just feeling under the weather. She probably caught the flu from someone at work."

"Ah," came the reply. "I'll fix up a pot of hot soup and something for her to drink. She should stay hydrated."

She heard his footsteps retreating and sighed, closing her eyes in exhaustion. Lips gently pressed against her temple as strong arms carefully slid under her and lifted her up. Surprised, Amara opened her eyes.

"Come on," her husband whispered to her. "Let's get you back to bed."

In minutes, Amara was comfortably tucked beneath the soft sheets with a cool rag on her forehead. Bruce immediately brought over a trashcan in case she felt sick again, and left a glass of cold water on the bedside table. She gave him a thankful look and sighed, closing her eyes in bliss.

After what seemed like a few minutes, but was actually two hours, she awoke just in time for the hot soup Alfred had promised earlier. He greeted her with a smile and waited with the tray in his hands until she had struggled into a sitting position.

"Here you are," he said affectionately. "Hot chicken soup with noodles, and a cup of mint tea. I didn't want to give you vegetables from the soup yet, but this should fill you up alright. You ought to eat lightly for the next few days to give your stomach a rest, but after that, you'll be right as rain."

Under the butler's careful watch, Amara ate every spoonful of broth and noodles, following it with the lukewarm tea. Once she was finished, she went back to sleep and didn't wake again until dinnertime, which consisted of more soup and tea.

Feeling much better, Amara slept again and only stirred when she felt Bruce's arm around her waist, holding her close as they drifted into dreams.

* * *

The next morning consisted of more toilet visitations. Bruce and Alfred continued to help her get over whatever illness she was suffering from, even though Amara objected to Bruce missing work. However, he insisted.

"Besides, I went yesterday, so that means I get to stay home with you today," he said with a smile.

She tried to scowl at him, but was too tired. "Don't get too close," Amara warned him, "I don't want to get you sick, too."

"Oh, no, I'd rather get sick, if it means staying here with you," Bruce told her with a wink. "You know, we don't spend nearly enough time together. When you're better, I'm taking you out for some fun on the town. What do you say?"

Sadly, her recovery was long in coming. After several days of heaving her guts into the toilet, Bruce and Alfred finally decided she should go see a doctor. Amara, however, was adamant that it was either the stomach flu or food poisoning, and didn't think it necessary until Alfred delivered a sound ultimatum to her about her health.

"You need to look after yourself, Amara," he scolded. "And you haven't been to a doctor one single time since I've known you, so you're going to one tomorrow, whether you like it or not."

The look on Bruce's face indicated his agreement with his butler. Knowing it was useless to argue with them, she gave in; she would go to the doctor's the following morning.

* * *

If there was one thing Amara hated about visiting a doctor's office, it was needles. She hated needles with a passion, even sewing needles, and therefore kept them as far away from her person as possible.

Unfortunately, she had to come face-to-face with this fear of hers and subject herself to a variety of blood tests, shots, and a lot of other poking and prodding by Doctor Joseph Stone, who was a friend of Bruce's. Doctor Stone was an elderly fellow with a sense of humor, so he was good at making her feel comfortable for most of the examination.

However, there was nothing he could do to distract her from the painful poke of a needle. It was just some basic vitamins that Doctor Stone believed she needed, considering how ill she'd been, though why she couldn't just take a pill was beyond her. Apparently he'd wanted it delivered directly to her bloodstream, so she'd let him do it, if only to help make her feel better.

After her visit, Amara went home feeling relatively good, and got a nice night of sleep in. Bruce would have tucked himself in beside her, but she'd insisted that he go out to patrol the city. He went, clearly unhappy about the whole thing, but left after extracting a promise that she'd send for Alfred if she needed anything during the night.

It was a good thing Bruce had been out until after dawn, because just as the sun crested the horizon, Amara found herself hanging over the edge of the toilet once more. It was annoying, but the doctor had said that she would be better within a few days, so she decided not to tell her husband about her morning encounter with the 'porcelain throne.'

Two days later, she was still at home sick, and it was futile to keep it from Bruce, especially when he had decided to stay home to keep an eye on her. She didn't want to worry him, and tried to convince him that everything was fine and that it would take time for her to recover. He, however, suggested that another visit to the doctor was called for.

But as it turned out, Amara didn't need to call and schedule an appointment with Doctor Stone. _He_ called _her_ to say that her blood test results were in, and he needed to see her immediately.

Bruce had been with her when she got the call, and when he heard that it concerned her blood tests, he practically dragged her and Alfred out the door in order to get her to the doctor's office. It was a good thing Alfred was driving, because if it had been Bruce behind the wheel, she would probably have been sick all over the nice leather seats. He was that determined to get there, _fast_.

When they arrived at their destination, Alfred remained with the car, so Amara had the difficult task of settling her anxious husband in the waiting room and ordering him to stay put. Once she was sure he wouldn't follow, she followed a nurse into a back room, her stomach quivering with nervousness.

* * *

Sitting in the waiting room, Bruce thumbed his way through a magazine, not even seeing what was on the pages. Amara had been in the back with the doctor for ages, and it was making him uneasy. Honestly, he couldn't understand why he couldn't be back there with her. He was her husband, and he was paying the medical bills, so there was no reason why he had to stay out in the _lobby_!

"Mr. Wayne?" a soft female voice called to him. "Doctor Stone would like to see you now. Please follow me."

Keeping his nerves in check, Bruce set aside the magazine and slowly stood up. He tried to keep his breathing slow and even in an effort to stay calm, but from the way his heart was currently dancing on his stomach, it wasn't working.

Following the nurse, he was led to an office with Dr. Stone's name on the door and shown inside. Amara was sitting there, an look on her face as she turned towards him.

Doctor Stone motioned to the empty chair beside Amara's. "Please sit down, Mr. Wayne."

He did so, casting a concerned look at his wife. "Are you alright?" he asked urgently, reaching out for her hand.

She gave him the most blissful smile he'd ever seen her wear. "Bruce," she whispered, gently squeezing his hand, "I'm pregnant."

* * *

It was a good thing Alfred was driving, because the ride home was a blur. After Amara's announcement that she was pregnant, Bruce found himself in a daze, the whole world moving around him and nothing making sense until they set foot in Wayne Manor.

"Bruce?" A gentle, feminine hand rested on his arm as his wife's lovely face came into view. "You haven't said a word since the doctor's office. Are you alright?"

He realized she was worried about how he felt about the baby, and a wave of guilt swept over him. From the way he'd been acting, she probably thought he didn't want their child!

Wanting to reassure her, Bruce reached out and swept his wife up in a tremendous hug, careful not to squeeze her too tight for fear of harming the baby. He felt her stiffen in surprise, then relax, her arms drifting up to wrap around his neck.

"So you're happy about this?" she whispered into his ear.

Bruce smiled. "Of course I am," he muttered. "It's just…I was surprised, that's all." Though it was very happy news, he was still uneasy about becoming a father.

And somehow, Amara could tell he was still troubled. Pulling back a little, she looked up into his eyes and tried to see why he was so torn. "What is it, Bruce?" she asked, gently touching his face with a soft hand.

"We should sit down," he said gently, but firmly. "I want us to talk about this alone, just the two of us."

* * *

Amara felt her insides quake at his words. For some reason, she envisioned Bruce wanting a divorce or a separation, all because of her carrying his baby. Oh, she knew he still loved her, but his lack of enthusiasm at the news of her pregnancy had sent her hopes and dreams plummeting. She couldn't understand why he looked so bleak.

Following him to a small sitting room, she carefully shut the door behind her and went to take a seat on the upholstered couch.

Bruce, meanwhile, paced the room and ran a hand nervously through his hair. "It's not that I'm unhappy about it," he said, still pacing back and forth. "It's just that…I'm trying to think of how our child will grow up with me as a father."

She watched him as he continued. "You know what I do at night, and that I often get hurt," he told her. "I'm worried about whether or not I can be a good father if I'm constantly leaving to save the city and its citizens. What happens if the worst should happen, and I don't come home to you or our child?"

Amara blinked. So that's what was bothering him! He feared that he'd have to choose between being a good father as Bruce Wayne, and maintaining his Batman persona. She knew that both sides of him were important, and wouldn't dream of forcing him to give up his nightly rounds of the city for any reason.

"I don't see why you can't keep going on as you have," she told him. "You can be with me and the baby during the day and sneak out at night after he, or she, is asleep. Lord knows this place is big enough for you to hide in and slip off whenever you have to."

Bruce turned to look at her as though he couldn't believe what she'd just said. "You still want me to be Batman?" he asked, surprised and doubtful. "But what happens if…?"

"If our child discovers you are Batman, we'll explain that it's a secret, and trust them to keep it," she told him. "But if the _worst_ happens…well, let's just say that I have faith in your fighting abilities, and that I don't think you'll be killed. If you are, I will make sure that our child knows what a hero their father was."

Amara could tell that Bruce didn't approve of this. Considering how open children were with secrets, she didn't blame him for wanting to keep his nighttime identity a secret from their offspring, even if the worst should happen. Still, she knew this was the best solution for all of them.

Rising from her place on the couch, she made her way to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "By protecting the city from crime, you'll be making it a safer place for our child, and for other children, to grow up in," she whispered. "They'll be able to go outside and play without fear, and that will ease the minds of their families. Because you make Gotham a safer place, I wouldn't have you give up being Batman for anything in the world."

A smile finally began to dawn on his face. "Alright, if you think this will work, I'll do it," he softly replied, pressing a heated kiss to her lips as one hand slid down her back.

"So…are you feeling better?" he asked suggestively.

Smiling, Amara pulled back and headed for the door, tossing a teasing glance over her shoulder. "Much," she said, right before heading up the stairwell. "Care to join me upstairs?"

Giggling, she ran up the stairs, her husband close behind her.

* * *

With Amara's help in dealing with his dual identity crisis, Bruce felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and believed he was ready for anything that might happen during the next six months of her pregnancy. It was probably the fact that he was male, and had no experience when it came to pregnant women that made him so sure that he could handle anything that could be thrown at him.

Alfred, of course, wasn't so sure. "Just because you can take on crime lords and mobsters doesn't mean you should feel so confident, sir," his butler had warned him once, not long after their visit to the doctor's. "I can remember the way things were when your mother was expecting you, and how your father dealt with it. Doctor or not, Thomas Wayne was as unprepared for it as any father, so don't look so sure of yourself."

And so, like any man with a pregnant wife, Bruce Wayne learned of all the hardships that came with expecting a baby. And the worst of it had to be the hormones. Oh, the dreaded hormones that turned his sweet wife into a raging inferno whenever something upset her!

The first thing to throw her into a rage was the fact that Bruce had to spend much more time away at the office. It wasn't _his_ fault that his company bought out a smaller company, and that there had to be many shareholders meetings to attend! Then he had to make his rounds throughout the purchased company, talking with employees and making them feel like they actually mattered (which they did). If Bruce didn't go to work, people would think him an inconsiderate jerk, and he really didn't want his reputation as a good boss tarnished like that.

Then, of course, there were his nightly rounds of Gotham City, which also kept him away from Amara's side. He usually waited until after she was fast asleep before slipping out, and made a point of at least being there for breakfast in the morning before heading out to the office.

A few months ago, Amara knew what life would be like with a husband holding two identities; now she didn't. She had been much more understanding before she was pregnant, but now, every other week or so, she would throw a tantrum and ask why he wouldn't see her anymore.

"You just don't want to spend any time with me!" she'd yell, right before bursting into tears.

Their time apart hadn't been a problem when Amara had been working at the library, but since her discovered pregnancy, Amara had decided to stop volunteering in order to focus on being a stay-at-home mother. The downside of this was that, with nothing to do, Amara was often bored and lonely. Alfred could not constantly keep her company, not when he had work to do around Wayne Manor; unfortunately, that left Amara feeling grumpy and wanting to yell at someone.

Finally, Bruce and Alfred suggested that Amara take up the project of preparing the Manor for the baby's arrival. Baby-proofing a mansion was a tough job, and bound to annoy any woman, much less a pregnant one. It proved an effective distraction, though, since it gave her something to focus on and worry about all day long. From that point on, whenever Bruce got home, Amara was either too exhausted or too busy pouring over baby safety manuals to yell at him.

And as though the hormones weren't bad enough, the cravings that Amara began to feel made things even worse. This was because Doctor Stone had put her on a strict diet, and being told what she could and couldn't eat was a huge frustration for her.

"I know that the cravings will seem maddening, but the list of healthy meals and foods that I gave you will help the baby's development," Doctor Stone had said.

That just made Amara more irritable, a dangerous thing in a pregnant woman, and in the end she had resorted to sneaking into the kitchen at night, after Bruce had gone out patrolling and Alfred was in bed. She'd tried to be careful, but eventually, Alfred noticed that pickles, ice cream, leftovers from the day before, and anything with chocolate in it were disappearing at an alarming rate. He had told Bruce, and soon, a lock was put on the door to keep Amara out.

Denied of her snacks and at the will of her hormones, the next time she saw Bruce, Amara threw a vase at him. Luckily, he'd ducked, and the vase had been an ugly wedding present anyway, so it was no loss. Plus, after she'd realized what she'd done, Amara had apologized profusely and dissolved into tears, saying she was a horrible person for doing that to him. Bruce then spent an entire hour reassuring her of his love and affection for her, and eventually, things were alright. Well, at least for a little while.

* * *

Eventually, the good things began to outweigh the bad in the Wayne household. The raging waters began to ebb, and Amara's maternal side began to take over. She delved into baby name books, often going over them with Bruce and Alfred, asking their opinions on what names they thought best for a boy or a girl. She began cooing over the baby clothes and toys piling up in the nursery, and bought piles of both whenever she went into the city. She even wanted to learn how to knit, but laughed and gave up on the idea when Bruce reminded her that she would be handling huge needles. Amara still did _not_ like needles.

As for Bruce's paternal instincts, the one thing that brought those instincts to life was something so small and simple that it made him want to change how he was handling his wife's pregnancy.

It was the baby's tiny kick against his hand.

Bruce had missed several of their baby's ultrasounds, mostly because of work and because, at that time, Amara had still been incredibly moody and hormonal. Instead of wanting to upset her further, he had decided to keep away until she approached him, cheerful and glowing with pride, holding the photos of their child.

And it was during one of these moments that Amara took him by the hand and placed it upon the bump that was their baby. There, beneath his fingertips, was a light flutter. A sign of life that he had helped create; a living human being that was a part of him and of Amara.

It was then that Bruce decided that it was time for him to spend more time with his wife. The next day, he began to come home early in the afternoons, helping her install little fences across the top of the stairwells and to choose baby monitors. He even helped Amara let off some steam, usually by taking her to the workout room where they could exercise together.

But the best part of being at home was feeling the baby move. As he and Amara began to spend more time together, just like they used to, they started up their old tradition of watching a film together in the den. There, Amara would sit curled up against Bruce's side, the two of them leaning against one another for love and comfort as their hands gently rubbed Amara's swelling stomach. Sometimes the baby would begin to kick, and both of its parents would begin to whisper and coo to it until all was still again.

It was into this world of renewed warmth and love that the baby decided to arrive.

* * *

Shifting the gear in his car, Bruce sped as fast as he could to the hospital. Beside him, Amara was breathing heavily, hands clutching her belly as she tried to deal with the pain of her contractions.

'_I wish Alfred were here_,' he thought, swerving to avoid a slow car in front of them.

It was too bad his butler had to go into the city, sent to pick up a few baby things Amara wanted for the nursery. He'd have been really used right then at keeping everyone calm. As it was, Bruce was _this close_ to losing it, but was keeping a grip on his cool so he could get his wife safely to the hospital. Thinking of the future, Bruce _really_ didn't want to tell his child stories of how they were born in the front seat of a Lamborghini. It'd be a cool story, but he was a traditionalist and wanted his baby delivered by professionals, not by him. Bruce might be a crime-fighting superhero at night, but this was something he could _not_ handle.

"Almost there," he said, pulling onto the off-ramp and following the street signs.

Within minutes, he was helping Amara out of the car and up towards the sliding doors, calling for help. Several nurses came running, one of them pushing a wheelchair for Amara to sit in. As the group vanished into a hospital room, Bruce was forced to sit in a chair and told to wait until he was called for. Collapsing into a seat, he dialed Alfred on his cell phone and gave him the news.

With the message delivered, Bruce buried his face in his hands, his mind spinning with memories of the past several months. He remembered how thrilled he was when he first felt his baby kick inside his wife's belly, and how he'd said that he didn't want to know if he and Amara were having a boy or a girl. Images of his glowingly healthy and excited wife flashed through his head, as well as the hundreds of names he'd read in the baby name books she'd pressed upon him on a nightly basis.

"I want just the right name for our child when he or she arrives," Amara had repeatedly told him as she put the books in his hands. "Now help me pick one!"

They never did, of course. Every time they wrote down a group of boy or girl names that sounded good, they would toss them out and start all over again. Now it was time, and they still had no name for their child!

"Master Wayne?" A gentle hand rested on his shoulder. "Goodness, sir; how long have you been sitting here like this?"

"Probably a good hour or more," commented a passing nurse. "His wife came in that long ago, anyway."

"Alright, then," Alfred said with a nod. "We'll be here longer yet. Babies tend to take a while, unless they're insistent. Shall I bring you something to drink, sir? Coffee, tea…maybe scotch?"

Bruce shook his head. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

AN: Next chapter: fast-forward into the future! Feel free to review!


	5. When Sleeping Tigers Stir

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own anything related to _**Batman**_ or the universe(s) he is in. They belong to other, far richer people than me.

AN: Okay, here comes the action! Well, for the most part. An old, um, friend comes back into the picture, and things will start getting messy from here on out. Oh, and the girl's name is pronounced Eh-lee-anna. Have fun, and please review! Thanks!

**Chapter 5: When Sleeping Tigers Stir:**

Looking down at her sleeping child, Amara smiled and reached out, softly brushing a lock of brown hair out of her daughter's face. It had been her first night in a 'big girl bed,' and Amara had been worried that the five-year-old would not be used to sleeping in it yet. Apparently she was wrong. Eyelids fluttered, but did not open, telling of how deep Ellie's sleep was.

Eliana was actually what her mother had named her, a pretty name randomly found in the baby book a nurse had brought in after Amara had given birth. Bruce had been happy to agree with any name Amara threw at him; looking back, she suspected it was because he'd been too wrapped up in holding his daughter to care what anyone was saying to him.

Strong arms slid around her waist, startling her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Bruce resting his chin on her shoulder, his hair mussed from sleep. "How's she doing?" he whispered into her ear.

Amara smiled. "Just fine," she quietly answered. "Sleeping like a log."

He smirked and stared down at the sleeping child, a gleam of fatherly pride in his eyes. In spite of all his doubts and concerns, Bruce was a good father (though sadly, he wasn't one for changing diapers). Like any man trying to be a good dad, he always tried to make time for his little girl, going so far as to work from home so that he could spend more time with his family. Because of this change in his work attitude, Bruce had actually been at home when Ellie took her first steps and said her first words.

Therefore, it wasn't his work duties that were the problem when it came to parenting; it was his alternate persona that was causing a few difficulties for the two of them.

Bruce's nightly activities occasionally left him coming home with numerous bruises, scrapes, cuts, even bone injuries. Whenever that happened, Amara had to let him sleep late and heal while she took their daughter out to the park, the zoo, or the library. Ellie was told it was because of her daddy's work that he couldn't go with them, a lie that always made Amara's heart ache that he couldn't be with them. Although Amara never blamed Bruce in any way, it did sometimes put a strain between the two of them.

'_But then, when all healthy marriages have some sort of problem, they work out a compromise_,' Amara reasoned as he pressed a kiss to her temple. '_Bruce's Batman persona is our problem; the compromise is us doing the best we can to hide it from Ellie and keep her safe_.'

Besides, Bruce was a good husband and loving father who tried to balance both work and family the best that he could; she couldn't fault him for that, not when she loved him so.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amara looked at her husband and smiled. As though she didn't idolize her father enough, Ellie also adored his nighttime costumed self. Of course, Ellie didn't know that her father was Batman, but she often heard people talking about him, and saw television stories about the legendary figure, which had started the little girl's interest in him. From the evening news and newspaper articles, Ellie knew the good work that Batman was doing for Gotham, and thought him one of the greatest people in the world. Well, besides her daddy.

It really helped that Batman was a hero to the people again, thanks to new evidence that had been produced a few years back. Bruce had told his wife that Harvey Dent/Two-Face had disposed of several corrupt police officers and citizens, but that Batman had taken the blame in order to preserve the memory of the late DA.

Years later, Bruce had managed to dig up documents proving that those who'd been killed had been on the mob's payroll. Bank statements showing large cash deposits, transferred funds sent to hospitals for sick family members, and credit card bills for expensive items were all anonymously delivered to the police and the newspapers to be shown to the public. These documents were proof enough for most of Gotham, allowing Batman to slowly regain the people's trust. However, the city's citizens would never really approve of his vigilantism if he turned it towards killing people.

"Mommy?" a tiny voice whispered. "Daddy?"

Smiling, Amara reached over and caressed her daughter's cheek. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she whispered. "Did we wake you up?"

"No," Ellie replied, rolling around so that she could sit up. "I was dreaming of Batman, but then it stopped, so I woke up."

Amara tried hard not to laugh. Ellie had the oddest admiration for The Dark Knight, sometimes making her mother read aloud articles about Batman right before bed. It was sweet, really, but both of her parents knew that, one day, she would have to know the truth. Hopefully, that was a day long in coming. Right now, things were fine just the way they were.

Rubbing her eyes, Ellie turned milk-chocolate eyes up at her mother. "Are we going to the zoo today?" she asked. "Daddy said we could. I want to see the big kitties."

Chuckling, Amara kissed her forehead. "Yes, we'll go see the big kitties. Some day, when you're older, maybe Daddy will get you a kitty of your own. A small one, though; I don't think Alfred could handle a big kitty like the ones at the zoo."

Ellie giggled and flopped back onto the bed. "Are you going with us, Daddy? You didn't last time."

"Yes, Daddy's going with you," Bruce answered, releasing his wife and turning towards the door. "Now, why don't you let Mommy help you get dressed, and then we can have a bit of breakfast before we go?"

As he slipped back to their room, Amara reached her arms out and swept her daughter up, pulling her close and inhaling the lavender scent of her child's hair. "Come on, sweetie," she said. "Let's pick out something that won't get too dirty while we're out."

* * *

It was a strange feeling, floating around in nothing but darkness for who-knows-how-long. If he wasn't already crazy, he'd be on his way there by now.

'_Maybe I'll get even crazier_?' he thought, chuckling into the blackness of his mind. It was certainly possible.

He didn't really know how long he'd been like this, stuck in the confines of his head. All The Joker could remember up to that point was that he'd been fighting that pointy-eared freak, and then someone had hit him in the head, hard. Since there'd only been one other person in the room, he knew who it was.

Miss Amara Thomas.

An image of her face appeared in the vortex that was his mind, and it brought an unexpected surge of lust through him, mixed with anger and a touch of grudging admiration. He was angry that she'd hit him, but the fact that she'd had the guts to do so made him want to laugh out loud. Imagine, the feared Clown Prince of Crime, taken out by a librarian! He would have laughed out loud, if he could. As it was, the inside of his head rang with it.

He honestly didn't know why he wanted her. For some reason he couldn't understand, Amara captivated him. There was something more about her that he liked; he'd seen it in her that very first night, when she'd been wearing that ravishing red dress. It was like before, when he'd met Rachel Dawes, the squeeze of Harvey Dent. Like Rachel, Amara was easy on the eyes, but there had been a dozen other women far more attractive than her. What made her so special that The Joker was willing to tear apart Gotham City to find her?

'_Well, she did bash me over the head and send me into a coma_,' he thought in amusement.

God, he loved a woman with fight in her! He'd seen that fire in her, behind the fear that had glittered in her eyes at their first meeting. That spark of defiant fire had shown itself after he'd kidnapped her; she'd fought him where most other women would have fainted, wet themselves, or both. Some might have screamed, like Amara had, but would have given up after he'd laid a finger on them.

Not Amara. She had practically _killed_ him to try and get away! How could he let a woman like that slip through his fingers?

'_Besides, every criminal needs a lady by his side_.'

Of course, he'd have to marry her. Only sane men stayed single, and The Joker was anything but sane. He liked being unpredictable, and so far, every time he'd encountered Miss Thomas, things had been…interesting.

He _loved_ interesting. _Interesting_ was fun.

And best of all, Batman had managed to magically appear whenever Amara was taken. It was almost as if the Bat-freak was fond of her, but that wasn't possible. His pointy-eared annoyance was probably just there to ruin The Joker's fun; somehow, he always knew when something was wrong in Gotham, and always showed up at the wrong moment.

'_Very frustrating, but still amusing, since I get to kick the crap out of him whenever he shows up_.'

Granted, the last time hadn't exactly been a walk in the park, but any wound he inflicted on the supposed hero of Gotham was immensely satisfying.

'_But first, I've gotta get out of this here place that I seem to be stuck_ in.'

At first, his days had been hazy at best –no doubt there was some sort of drug being pumped into his system to keep him docile, and to take away the pain of his injuries. Pain didn't bother him, though; he _liked_ it.

No, what really pissed him off was the fact that the "civilized" folks were keeping him alive. They wouldn't kill him and be done with it, because that would be murder, and that would make them feel guilty. No, they had to keep him alive, but drugged, which they believed was more 'humane.' It made him want to either laugh or be sick.

Things were different now than they were before, though. He could hold a train of thought for a very long time, and could hear everything that was going on around him. Not long ago, he'd felt someone giving his face a wash, which was infuriating; _no one_ was supposed to see what was under the makeup!

Needles poked him, people whispered all around him, so at least he was getting most of his senses back. There was a bit of an odd flavor in his mouth, another promising sign that he was beginning to get his act together.

'_Of course, this only means that I get to start having fun again soon_.'

The thought sent a thrill of amusement along his spine. He wanted to have fun again. So many places to torch, people to torment, fireworks to set off…man, he had to form an agenda just to get everything done!

Normally, he wasn't a planning man, nor was he a patient one. However, these were, ah, unusual circumstances, and since he had a lot of time on his hands, why not make a few mental notes? A few things were already jotted down, and there would be more to join them.

But right now, he was tired…tomorrow, he'd start again.

* * *

"Okay, now remember: we have to keep this a secret," Bruce whispered to his daughter as they entered the jewelry store. "Mommy can't know."

Skipping beside him, Ellie smiled up at her father and nodded. She was very excited about helping him pick out a present for Amara, and felt very grown up about it. "Are we getting her something sparkly or shiny?" she asked.

Bruce hid a smile. Ellie was too young to know the names of gemstones and metals, but she knew what her mother liked when it came to jewelry. He had seen the two of them sitting together at Amara's dressing table, glittering with necklaces, bracelets and hairclips. This was the fancy version of 'dress-up,' and it was very cute to watch mother and daughter playing together, the jewelry box open as they giggled their amusement. It was one of his favorite things to come home to after work.

Best of all, even though Amara disliked getting expensive jewelry, she couldn't resist something from Ellie, which was why Bruce had brought her along. Alfred was keeping Mrs. Wayne busy by taking her to the bookstore, an outing that always lasted for several hours. He had plenty of time.

"Ah, Mister Wayne!" Mr. Rockwell gushed from behind the counter. "Here to purchase a gift for your lovely wife?"

The store's owner, Mr. Rockwell, was an older distinguished man whose name and profession went well together. Mr. Rockwell was known throughout Gotham for the high quality of his gemstones, and for the unique styles he offered. The rich, powerful, and fashionable wore his goods on their hands, necks, and any other place jewelry might be found. Anyone who was anyone bought from him, and Bruce was no exception. Besides, Amara liked his designs, and Bruce wanted to get her something special.

"Yes, we are," Ellie replied, all seriousness. Bruce almost burst out laughing at the determined look in her eyes. She was definitely focused on her goal on getting a pretty gift for her mother.

Mr. Rockwell bent forward over the counter and blinked in surprise. "Well, my goodness," he exclaimed. "I didn't see you down there."

Reaching behind the counter, he produced a green lollypop. Ellie's eyes lit up, one hand reaching for the treat before she could stop herself.

Mr. Rockwell winked at her. "Now, I have a large selection of these back here, but I'm afraid I don't know your favorite flavor. You'll have to help me with that."

Ellie began to dance eagerly back and forth. "I like the red ones!" she replied enthusiastically.

Bruce smiled. It wasn't the flavor Ellie liked; it was the fact that it made her lips turn red, like the lipstick Amara wore sometimes. "What do you say?" he whispered down to her.

His daughter's brown eyes widened, causing her look remarkably like her mother. "I would like a red one, please," she said, smiling politely.

Mr. Rockwell smiled and produced a red lollypop. "There you are, young lady," he said. "Now, are you here to help pick out something for your mommy?"

Ellie accepted the candy and nodded. "Mommy likes the blue ones that sparkle, but she looks better in red," she solemnly told him. "Do you have blue and red?"

Bruce smiled. "And do you have anything new?" he asked. "I really want to get her something that no one else has –or at least, they don't have _yet_."

Nodding, Mr. Rockwell stepped over to a different glass display and motioned for them to follow. Sweeping up his child, Bruce approached the glass and looked inside. What he saw made his stomach drop.

Pearls. Ropes and ropes of pearls lay there.

He tried to keep calm and not fold Ellie into a protective hug. Bruce considered pearls to be a curse on his family; a string of golden-yellow pearls had been his father's last gift to his mother before they were killed. True, he'd given Amara a pearl-and-diamond necklace for their wedding, but it hadn't been a solid pearl necklace, which, to him, made all the difference. There were no pearl necklaces in Wayne Manor; there were pearls on broaches, rings, hairclips, even a small tiara that Amara wore only to important functions, but no necklaces.

"Um, how about the rubies or sapphires?" asked Bruce, trying to keep his voice casual.

Mr. Rockwell nodded. "This way, please."

Holding Ellie close, Bruce followed close behind.

* * *

Two hours later, they were driving up to the house, Ellie tightly clutching an elegantly wrapped box in her arms as she kicked her legs in the back seat.

"Can I give it to Mommy?" she asked, clearly excited.

By now, her eagerness was contagious, and Bruce found himself growing as excited as she was. "Sure," he answered as they pulled into the immense garage, parking the Mercedes in the first empty spot. "But not until we're sure she's home. I'll go find her, and you go to the yellow room, okay?"

Ellie nodded and waited until he helped her out of her car seat. The moment her feet hit the ground, she was off, running for the sitting room where her mother loved to read. Bruce smiled and knew that Alfred was right; he _was_ the luckiest guy in the world.

Shaking his head, Bruce pulled out his cell phone and dialed. The other side rang three times before it was picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, beautiful," he said cheerfully. "Where are you?"

Amara laughed. "Upstairs in my little library. I just may need another room for all the new books that I bought today."

Bruce chuckled. "Well, I'm sure we can find you a place. In the meantime, why don't you meet me in the yellow sitting room in five minutes? There's something I want you to see."

"Okay, I'll be right there."

Closing his phone, Bruce broke into a run, desperate to get there before his wife. Fortunately, Ellie was already there, seated on a little footstool in front of the couch. In her lap was the gift, and she had a bright smile on her face.

"Is Mommy coming?" she asked, bouncing up and down.

"Yes, Mommy's coming," Bruce replied, moving further into the room.

"Actually, Mommy's already here," said a female voice from the door.

Ellie's eyes lit up. "Mommy! Look at what I got you!" she cried, holding up the box.

Both parents chuckled as Amara came forward and took the box into her own hands. "Thank you, sweetie," she crooned, pressing a kiss to her daughter's cheek. "Now, let's see what's inside, hmm?"

The three of them sat on the couch and watched the wrapping paper fall away to reveal a black velvet box with the Rockwell seal on the top. Amara gasped as she recognized it and lifted the lid.

"Oh, my!" she breathed, lifting out the silver-and-gold locket. "Oh, it's beautiful!"

"Daddy said we can put our pictures inside, and then you can wear it all the time," Ellie told her with a grin.

Amara donned the locket. "Well, then, why don't we go find a nice picture of you and Daddy so we can put them inside my new locket?" she suggested.

Nodding, Ellie jumped out of Bruce's lap and grabbed her parents' hands. "Let's go!" she cried.

Exchanging amused glances, her parents rose from the couch and followed her upstairs to the nursery.

* * *

Things were a lot different now. He could feel it. His senses were almost back to the way they were before, and though he'd been strapped to a bed for God-knows-how-long, he was still strong. He'd always been strong.

Someone entered the room, and he felt a hand on his arm while another loosened the straps tying him down. Opening his eyes just a crack, he could make out a single female nurse bending over him. Perfect.

Gathering his strength, he sprang, gripping the nurse by the throat to keep her from screaming. She gave a strangled sound, then froze, staring at him in terror. Good. She knew who he was and what he was capable of doing.

"What's the date?" he quietly snarled.

The answer she choked out stunned him. It couldn't have been that long, could it? She had to be lying.

"You'd better be telling the truth, or else something very nasty is going to happen to you," he whispered in a dark voice.

The nurse's eyes flicked towards the television. Ah, a good point, and there was a remote on the side table. Picking it up, he flipped on the TV and turned the volume up so that it was just barely audible. News footage flashed by, but the only thing he was interested in was the date. Sure enough, the girl was telling the truth.

"Well, since you've been so helpful, I guess I'll have to let you go," he said with a grin. Her eyes lit up with hope. He'd have to fix that.

"_However_, I want to keep this quiet, and the only way to keep it that way is to do _this_."

Flexing his fingers, he crushed her neck with a tight grip, effectively damaging her vocal cords so that she couldn't make a sound. The girl was going to have either a very faint voice, or be a mute. Either one was fine with him.

Slowly, his fingers slowly let go, dropping her to the floor with a thud. Pulling the tubes from his arms, The Joker stood up and stretched. Apparently they'd tried to keep his body in working order while he'd been out. Thank goodness for physical therapists.

"Ciao," he said with a tiny wave, slipping out into the dark corridors of the hospital. It was time to get to work.

* * *

AN: Can you feel the fun and excitement coming? I hope that everyone liked the chapter and will review. Thanks a bunch!


	6. An Act of Revenge

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Now the real fun begins. Please let me know what you think by reviewing. Thanks!

**Chapter 6: An Act of Revenge:**

Straightening his suit, The Joker looked at himself in the mirror and scowled. How could he have missed out on so much in such a short time? Some things had changed, but others hadn't.

'_Like the Batman still being around_.' _That_ was still a surprise.

But The Joker wasn't stupid. The minute he'd gotten out, he'd gotten his hands on his hidden stash of loot and went out to purchase new clothes and hire back his gang. Those buffoons were too terrified to refuse his demand that they work for him again, and had been quick to steal a heap of clothes and weapons for his use, as well as their own.

Armed, immaculately dressed, and flanked by his cronies, The Joker had a stolen computer system set up in a new hideout to find out what he'd been missing. Luckily, one of the men was a computer whiz, and had the thing set up in a hurry. With a few clicks of the keyboard, the crime lord was able to catch up on all the happenings of Gotham City.

And the very first thing he discovered was that his mask-wearing, cape-donning opponent was still protecting the city.

Through some miracle, Batman managed to get around the charges of murder that the Gotham police were going to throw against him instead of Harvey Dent. Before he'd gone into a coma, The Joker knew that everyone believed it was Batman who had killed innocent cops and civilians. Somehow, evidence had come forward, indicating that those who'd been killed had been connected to the mob and had stolen, blackmailed, or even murdered for the crime bosses. Bank statements told of large deposits of money being made into those people's accounts, and there was only one explanation for that.

With this new evidence, Batman had slowly been accepted once more by the people of Gotham. They didn't approve of his alleged actions, but at least the citizens now knew that those who'd been killed had been anything but innocent.

And as though that weren't frustrating enough, The Joker had discovered that Amara, the pretty little spitfire that he wanted, was now married. Not to just any one, but to the billionaire pansy, Bruce Wayne!

He'd punched out the monitor at that point, right before tossing it across the room, taking the rest of the computer with it. He'd had to wait until the next day for them to get a new one.

Going back online, The Joker flipped through the news articles talking about the wedding. It was the typical gathering of the rich, powerful, and famous, with the bride clad in a dress that cost more than a normal man makes in a year. He printed out the photo of the happy couple and happily cut the groom out, keeping the image of Amara in her pretty dress.

He glanced over at the wall next to him. It was covered in photos taken from news papers and magazines that had covered stories about Mrs. Wayne, all dating from a few months before the marriage to a year or so after it. In one of them, Amara had a distinct belly-bump and a radiance to her skin, both a clear indication of her pregnancy. The Joker had tossed a man into a wall after finding that out. The idea of another man impregnating her infuriated him, hand had caused his goons to avoid him for several days so that he could cool off. When he did, he read up on the birth of little Eliana Wayne, beloved child of Bruce and Amara Wayne. Such a pretty little girl…

Growling, a knife flew through the air to embed itself in a photo of Bruce Wayne. He always kept a few up for target practice. So far, they were looking very cut up.

Straightening his jacket once more, The Joker grinned. He had business to take care of today, and revenge was a dish best served cold. After five years of cooling, it was time to serve it up.

* * *

Glancing around the nursery, Amara sighed. It wasn't _that_ messy, but was still in need of some tidying. Alfred did the best that he could, but since he was so busy with the rest of the Manor, Amara had taken on the task of keeping her daughter's room clean. It was the least she could do, and it managed to keep her busy, since Ellie had started kindergarten last week.

'_Well, at least she's home for half the day_,' she thought to herself. Afternoons were her favorite part of the day now.

Retrieving a doll from the floor, Amara looked up at the nursery ceiling, and smiled. Several scenes from her favorite story, _**Peter Pan**_, decorated the domed ceiling; the first scene was a pirate ship, the second of the Indian encampment, and finally, the mermaid lagoon. Sprinkled throughout the scenes were detailed images of Peter himself flying with Wendy, John, Michael, and the Lost Boys, all of them made as realistic as possible. There were no cartoon versions of the story in _this_ nursery. Amara had made sure of that. Not that she hated the cartoon; she just liked the book better.

All around her, white-painted furniture and bookshelves decorated the room, and the walls were exquisitely decorated with scenes from various fairy tales and nursery rhymes. It was her favorite room in the Manor.

"Mommy, don't put my dolly away!" Ellie cried from the doorway. "I want to hold her when we play _Candyland_!"

With a sigh, Amara handed the toy to her child. It was a beautiful china doll with blonde hair and blue eyes made of glass. Bruce had given it to Ellie for her fifth birthday, and it was her favorite plaything. She took remarkably good care of it, too.

"Okay, sweetie, but the _minute_ you put it down on the floor, I'm putting her away, understand?" Amara emphasized. "Alfred is out driving Daddy around for work, so it's our job to keep the house tidy while he's gone, okay?"

Ellie nodded in understanding. "Yes, Mommy," she replied. "Can we go play now?"

Amused in spite of herself, Amara smiled. "Okay, let's go."

* * *

An hour later, Amara watched as Ellie won again, her doll clutched tightly in her arms a she put the piece at the end. Shaking her head, they picked up the board and put everything back into the box before tucking it away for the day.

"Okay, what would you like to do now?" she asked.

"Movie!" Ellie cried, bouncing on her feet.

"Movie it is," Amara said with a smile. "Go put your doll away while I get the TV ready."

Ellie immediately flew upstairs, leaving her mother to set up the den. The first thing Amara did was turn on the television, and what she saw on the screen almost made her faint.

"As we've just reported, The Joker has escaped from Gotham City Hospital, where he has been in a coma for over six years!" a reporter told the camera. "Apparently he escaped nearly a week ago, but Gotham Police and hospital staff kept the escape a secret in the hopes of finding the crazed criminal before his disappearance was noticed. Commissioner Gordon had this to say."

The screen filled with a video of Gordon in front of police headquarters. "I would like to say that the idea of keeping The Joker's escape a secret is not one that I agreed with. However, I was ordered to do so by the offices of the mayor and the governor. At present, our best detectives are out on the street, chasing down every possible lead. It is my hope that we will find The Joker before he strikes again."

Stunned, Amara watched as the reporter reappeared. "From what this reporter has just learned, The Joker attacked a nurse at the hospital and crushed her vocal cords, leaving the young girl mute. Doctors think that she will recover, but will need extensive surgery to repair her injuries."

Flipping off the television, Amara raced for the stairs, narrowly missing Ellie on the staircase. Panicking, she lifted her daughter up into her arms and ran for the nursery, ignoring Ellie's questions as she practically dove into the room.

Shutting the door behind her, Amara gently set her daughter on the floor and looked into her child's eyes. "Ellie, I need you to listen to me very carefully, okay?"

Chocolate-colored eyes, the mirror-image of her own, stared up at her. "Okay, Mommy," the little girl replied, her voice trembling.

Amara took a deep breath. "Ellie, there is a very bad, very _dangerous_ man running around Gotham City," she explained. "I need you to stay here while Mommy calls up Daddy to let him know what's going on, okay? I'll be back very soon."

Ellie nodded, her lower lip trembling. "Yes, Mommy."

She pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheeks. "Be good, stay here and keep quiet. If anyone but Mommy comes in, I want you to hide, okay?"

Again, Ellie nodded. Amara gave her another kiss, then slipped out into the hallway, locking the door behind her.

* * *

"Bruce, I don't know what to do!" Amara wept into the phone. "I mean, the police should have told us when this happened! He kidnapped me, twice, and probably would have killed me if-"

"I know, honey, I know," Bruce hurriedly replied. "I'm upset, too. I wish I'd heard something of this from Gordon whenever I met with him, but he never said a word!"

She knew that he meant his nightly meetings with Gordon as Batman. It was odd that Gordon had never said anything to his partner in crime, but perhaps he couldn't; the mayor couldn't risk a city-wide panic if word spread about The Joker's escape. Still, the least he could have done was call either her or Bruce about this!

Her husband was still talking. "But right now, the important thing is to get you and Ellie to a safe place. I need you to get her and drive to the penthouse in town. I'll get a lot of extra security set up there, and I'll make sure its safe. You'll sleep there tonight, and tomorrow, we'll get you and Ellie out of the city, maybe even out of the country until he's caught."

Amara took a deep breath to try and calm down. "Okay, I'll do it. Will you be there?"

"I'll be waiting, and so will Alfred," Bruce assured her. "I'll see you in half an hour. I love you."

She smiled. "I love you, too."

Hanging up, Amara practically tossed the phone aside in order to run upstairs, pulling out the key to the nursery as she did so. Unlocking the door, she called to her daughter that it was okay, it was Mommy, and that it was time to go on a trip.

When the door swung open, the sight that greeted her made Amara freeze in her tracks. Her daughter's beautiful room was filled with joker cards, some of them still falling even as she stood there, staring.

A minute later, it was also filled with the sound of a mother's horrified screams.

* * *

It'd been remarkably easy to keep an eye on the Wayne family. The paparazzi had taken tons of photos of the family, mostly while they were walking around downtown Gotham on shopping trips or going to school. That was how he'd discovered where little Eliana Wayne attended school, and when she'd be at home during the day.

'_I love the press_,' he thought, grinning at the unconscious child lying at his feet. '_They're so __**helpful**_.'

It had also been incredibly easy slipping past the security system that'd been set in place up at Wayne Manor. A very nice bribe, a few threats, and he had the passwords, codes, and instructions to get past everything that needed to be cracked. He'd waited for the perfect moment, when the precious little princess had been left alone by her mother, slipped his men in through a side door, and the deed was done.

With speed and cunning, one of the men picked the lock on the door, revealing the child playing on the floor with a few of her toys. With her distracted, it was easy for The Joker to slip a cloth covered in chloroform over the child's nose and mouth, sending her into unconsciousness while the men tossed a rope over the balcony. The girl had then been passed to his strongest and most agile man to be taken to the car. No need for the little thing to get hurt this early in the plan, not before the real fun had begun.

Resetting the lock on the door, The Joker placed a special device on the floor, stood back, and pressed a button. Several dozen cards exploded in a flurry from the little makeshift bomb he'd made, the stiff paper rectangles flying high into the air before floating gently down to the ground. Grinning, he threw himself off the balcony, grabbing the rope to slow his decent.

Once on the ground, The Joker ran for the getaway vehicle, slipping inside and slamming the door just as the car peeled out. The plan had been a success.

Breathing deeply, he savored the moment. They were safely in the hideout, and the child was in his possession, unconscious and lying on his bed. She wasn't tied, but he wouldn't hesitate to do so if she became, ah, difficult. With her mother, he had no doubt that she would be.

And like her mother, she was a pretty little thing, too. Eliana had her mother's eyes, and the shape of her face was the same, though her hair was a touch lighter, thanks to her father.

His gloves squeaked as his fingers clenched. Bruce Wayne. He'd have to take care of _that_ pain in his ass soon.

'_Preferably while Amara is watching_,' he thought, the idea bringing a grin to his lips.

Oh, yes, wouldn't that be _fun_? Her cries echoing the room while her husband lay bleeding on the ground, beaten to a pulp by The Joker and his men…oh, he rather liked that idea! The Joker wasn't a merciful man, and he wanted the torment to last as long as possible. And if it drove her mad –well, then, that was even better! He'd have a girl by his side who was his equal in being mentally unbalanced!

The little tyke at his feet stirred a little, catching his attention. Normally, he had no problem in 'dealing' with kids, but if he wanted Amara's attention, the brat had to be kept alive in order for his plan to work.

'_But she is a pretty little thing_,' he thought, looking down at her. '_Like mother, like daughter_.'

Not that he was a perverted child fancier or anything. That was a trait of the lowest sort of criminal, and he was better than that. No, The Joker wasn't like that, but he had to admit that little Eliana Wayne was a sweet-faced little girl.

'_Hmm, but I wonder if she's got the same fire_?' He'd love to test that theory.

Well, he'd find out soon enough. He certainly had the attention he craved; now he had to make his demands known.

Snapping his fingers just once brought three men running. "Get the girl into a chair and strap her down," he growled. "Gag her, too. I want her scared, but not screaming. I _don't like_ screaming while I'm on TV!"

"Yes, boss," the three men chorused as they rushed to obey.

Watching them closely, The Joker checked to be sure Ellie, as he knew she was called, was treated gently, but firmly. Her little body was soon placed in a beat up leather chair, arms and legs tied up so that she couldn't fight or kick in any way. A clean rag was tucked between her lips and knotted in the back to keep it from falling out. Perfect.

"Now, get me the video camera," he snarled.

One man immediately handed him the device, already switched on and ready to record. Good. It was time to get down to business.

* * *

AN: Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but I didn't want it to drag on for too long. The next one will hopefully be longer. Thank you for reading, and please don't forget to review. Thanks!


	7. A Parent's Worst Nightmare

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own anything related to _**Batman**_ or the universe(s) he is in. They belong to other, far richer people than me.

AN: Trauma and drama all around in this chapter, hopefully making for some interesting reading. Please let me know what you think by reviewing. Thanks!

**Chapter 7: A Parent's Worst Nightmare:**

Something was terribly wrong at home. Amara had never shown up at the penthouse, and after spending an hour of calling both the Manor and Amara's cell phone, with no reply, Bruce decided to head home to see what had happened.

Racing up the steps, Bruce threw open the doors of the Manor and tried to figure out where he needed to go. His whole world was in chaos, and he desperately needed to find his family. The Joker had escaped, but for some reason, he and Amara had not been told about it because the fools who ran the city were more worried about their public image than the people's safety. Worse, his wife and daughter were alone in a large mansion, and he had to find them, fast. They had to be taken somewhere safe, before…

The sound of someone weeping made his blood run cold. Listening carefully, Bruce traced the echoing sound; it was coming from upstairs. Without hesitation, he ran up the carpeted marble steps, following it to the family wing. When he got there, he froze.

Crumpled on the floor was the worst sight in the world to him: Amara, her face in her hands as she wept, was on her knees before the open door to Ellie's bedroom. Falling to his own knees beside his wife, Bruce wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"What happened?" he whispered, his voice sounding loud and harsh to him.

Amara lifted her head, eyes red and flowing with tears. Her face was so severely pale that Bruce feared she was half dead. "I left her alone for a minute…just a minute, to call you, and when I came back, Ellie was…"

Bruce pulled her close just as the tears began to flow once more. As his wife soaked his coat with her heartache, Alfred stole up behind him and put a hand on his employer's shoulder.

"Master Wayne?" he whispered. "You might want to take a look at this."

Turning his head, Bruce looked, and wished he hadn't. On the carpet were hundreds of scattered playing cards, all of them jokers. The sight was simple, but horrifying, as it was a clear indication of what had happened. The Joker had Ellie, the one thing that both Bruce and Amara cherished above all things.

"We'll get her back," he growled, pulling his wife into a tighter hold. "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

The mansion seemed darker than it had ever been before. The only time Bruce could remember it feeling so vast and eerie was after the deaths of his parents. Like so many years before, someone precious had been taken from him. The only difference was, back then, there had been nothing he could do about it. Now, things were different.

Seated in the kitchen, the trio sipped drinks according to their moods. Bruce had a cup of tea, as did Alfred, but Amara was nursing a bit of scotch in order to help calm her nerves. It was working, to an extent, but she still looked as though she were trying hard not to scream her anger and frustration.

Taking another sip from her glass, Amara swallowed harshly and tried to set the glass down without breaking it. "So what do we do now?"

"Well," Alfred began as he poured another cup of tea, "the question we should be asking ourselves is: do we want the police involved in all of this?"

Bruce shook his head. "Eventually, we'll have to. Someone from the police department is going to be coming around eventually, just to check how we're coping with The Joker's escape, and we won't be able to cover up the fact that Ellie isn't here."

Alfred nodded. "They might even make you move to a protected location, though I wouldn't trust any sort of protective detail they assigned."

"Hmm, nor I," Amara muttered. "But we'll have to involve them, sooner or later."

"Might I make a suggestion?" Alfred gently put in. "I think that we should wait. The Joker might make his demands known to us within the next day or two, so we should use that precious time to make a plan of some sort."

From the calm way Amara agreed with him, Bruce could tell that his wife was on her way to being drunk. If she'd been in her right state of mind, he had no doubt that she would be screaming her impatience and demand that they do something, _now_.

As it was, she was willing to play by his rules and wait for The Joker's demands.

* * *

Bruce had led Amara up to their bedroom for some rest just as twilight set in. She was fairly intoxicated, and he'd made sure to give her plenty of water to prevent a hangover. At least she would be getting a full night's sleep; after what had happened, she deserved it.

With his wife safely tucked beneath the sheets of their bed, Bruce made his way to the den and switched on the television, making sure to keep the volume down so that no sound made its way upstairs. The news was on, and with it was the sign he, his wife and their butler were waiting for.

From what the news anchor said, it was a video that had been delivered to the station, and that, after viewing the footage, they had to play it. The contents of the tape churned Bruce's stomach.

There, perched in a large leather chair, was Ellie. Her eyes were bound, her mouth gagged, and her hands were tied to the chair's armrests. From her posture, it was clear that she was terrified, but she didn't appear to be weeping or struggling to cry out.

A makeup-caked face appeared in front of the camera, grinning madly into the lens. Licking his red painted lips, he began to speak.

"As you can see, little Ellie is safe and sound, Mr. Wayne," The Joker said, panning to the child as though to emphasize his message. "If you want her to stay that way, we can do a little trade!"

Bruce's heart dropped to the floor. No trade would be a good one, and Bruce could only imagine what the Clown Prince could want from _him_.

Shining mad eyes glittered from black depths created by dark paint and eye shadow. "How about…your delectable wife…for your brat? How does that sound to you, Bruce-y?"

The minute those words came through the screen, Bruce was on the verge of throwing the coffee table at it. What the Joker asked of him was impossible. Trade his wife for his daughter? The love of his life for his child? How could any man make that sort of trade?

"I can't do it," he whispered.

But then, what else could he do? And what about Amara? He'd have to talk to her about this, and he could easily guess what she would have to say –no doubt she'd run out the door without thinking, ready to throw herself into The Joker's claws in order to save Ellie. He couldn't let her do that.

"With this tape's delivery to the station, we can only guess what the Wayne family will do concerning this situation," the reporter on television was saying. "Be assured that our hopes and prayers are with them during this terrible time. We will keep you all posted on this event as it unfolds."

"Master Wayne?" said a voice from the doorway. The door to the den swung further open, revealing a rather frustrated Alfred, who was shaking his head. "I saw the news in the kitchen. The police, Commissioner Gordon, and a dozen television stations have flooded the phone lines. I'm glad you don't keep a phone in the master bedroom, sir, otherwise your wife would be awake, and then there'd be hell to pay."

Bruce swept a hand over his hair and face. "What am I going to do, Alfred?" he asked. "I know what Amara would do, but I can't let her trade her life for Ellie's. Our daughter can't live without her mother."

His oldest friend and confidant came up beside him. "I know that you don't want Ellie to have the same sort of life that you did, sir," whispered Alfred. "But she won't be able to have _any_ sort of future if she's dead. You and Amara have to think about this carefully, and quickly. The police are no doubt on their way here, as are the reporters."

Damn it, he was right, and Bruce knew it. He and his wife had a lot to do, and not enough time to do it.

* * *

The little girl was staring at him with those big brown eyes of hers, so much the mirror-image of her mother's it was uncanny. He liked it.

"So, sweet pea, what does your precious mommy do for fun with you?" he asked, flicking his knife open and closed. "Does she play, ah, games with you?"

No, it wasn't meant in a dirty way; he never thought about kids like that. That was for lowlife scum, the people he liked to torture and get rid of once he was done. The Joker was genuinely interested in what mother and daughter did while dear old Daddy was out of the house.

Seated in a large leather chair, Ellie gave him a somber look as she answered him. "We play games. I like _Candyland_."

He flipped open the knife and pressed the tip into the top of his gloved left forefinger, slowly turning it over and over, watching the light of the room reflect off of it. "What else?" he demanded.

The child began to swing her legs back and forth. "Mommy likes to read to me. She reads lots of stories to me when we aren't playing."

"And?" he asked, fluttering a hand at her impatiently.

"Daddy brings me dolls, and then Mommy and I play with them together," she answered, swinging her legs to a rhythm only she heard.

Launching himself at her, The Joker barely managed to keep the knife from the girl's face; he didn't need her wetting herself all over the chair. Instead, he shoved a finger into her face, keeping it just in front of her terrified eyes.

"No more talking about your daddy, got it?" he snarled. "I don't _like_ hearing about your father. I _hate_ fathers."

Nodding, Ellie's eyes swelled with tears. Pulling himself back, The Joker settled into a nearby chair, happy that he'd gotten the reaction that he had. "Now, what else do you and Mommy do?"

His little interrogation lasted a few more minutes, until dinner was brought in. One of his goons had learned to cook from a cousin, so he was in charge of making his boss happy in the food department. So far, he'd only been punched twice: both were for serving cold food. Granted, one of the dishes was _supposed_ to be cold, but The Joker hated _anything_ served cold. The next time that happened, the man would be floating in the Gotham City river.

He watched as Ellie's eyes lit up at the prospect of getting something to eat. There was a stack of small pastries on one of the plate, too; apparently his cook suspected that the way to get kids to talk was to bribe them with sweets. The Joker had other ways to make the girl more talkative, but if she ended up crying, he just might have to kill her. He hated it when people cried around him; it was pathetic and disgusting.

With a wave of his hand, a few goons stepped forward. His men weren't exactly the gentle type, but one or two of them had kids of their own, so they were the ones pushed into the task of 'caregiver' for Ellie. These men were the ones who served her dinner, cut up her meat and vegetables, and poured her a glass of water, all under their boss's intense gaze.

Keeping a careful eye on her, The Joker studied each and every move the child made.

Just as he suspected, she had class, even for a five-year-old. Ellie had good table manners, eating her way slowly and daintily through her meal, almost as though she were a bird. She even wiped her mouth in a lady-like manner, something she probably observed and copied from her mother. Amara must have been very proud to have a child so perfectly trained at eating.

Suddenly, an idea hit him. If Ellie could be trained to eat with such an advanced level of etiquette, what else could she be trained to do? He'd heard that children were quite impressionable at a young age, and could be taught practically anything, if they were instructed correctly.

He tried to imagine all the possibilities. '_Why, I could have my own mad little family_!' he thought, grinning broadly.

And why not? With Amara by his side and him twisting her little girl into a little princess of terror, it would be his perfect version of a family! Not to mention, with dear Bruce gone, Amara would need a new man and Ellie would need a father.

'_And who's a better candidate than me_?'

Laughter exploded from his mouth, shocking everyone around him, including Ellie. The little girl dropped her fork onto the plate and leaped back in her chair, pulling herself away from him.

The Joker immediately stopped laughing. "Ah, ah," he chided her. "No need to be alarmed, sweet pea. Finish your dinner, and we'll see if these nice fellas can find you something to play with, huh?"

One of the men took the hint and split, obviously heading for the closest toy store. If he wasn't back in half an hour, he was dead.

Sitting back in his chair, the Clown Prince watched his future little princess finish her meal. The two of them stared at each other across the small space between them until her food was gone and his hired help returned with a sack of stolen toys.

After that, she was too preoccupied to notice him studying her.

* * *

She really didn't like the strange man who'd taken her away from her mommy and daddy. He'd made her almost cry with those sharp knives he had, and he wore strange white makeup all over his face. His red painted lips scared her. Mommy put red stuff on her lips, too, but they made hers look pretty. She wanted pretty lips like Mommy's.

And Ellie knew who the bad man was. She'd heard her teachers talking about him one day, when they thought no one could hear them.

"That's Mrs. Wayne's little girl," one of them had whispered. "You know, the one who got kidnapped twice by The Joker."

"Wow," another had softly replied. "She has to be made of strong stuff to have survived that!"

"And it didn't hurt that Batman went to her rescue," the first teacher put in. "Still, Mrs. Wayne had to have been incredibly brave to get through all of that trauma. I'm not sure if I could have made it out with my sanity, not if I was being held by a makeup-wearing maniac. The white powder and red paint all over his face would have scared the heck out of me!"

That was how she knew about The Joker. The other kids didn't know, but she did. And she knew that Mommy had been very brave when she was taken.

Ellie looked at the white seal that the bad man had gotten for her. '_If Mommy can be brave, so can I_.' Besides, she wanted to make Mommy and Daddy proud by being brave.

Humming a little song, she picked up another toy and began to play.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight," Amara slowly said to her husband and their butler. "Ellie's been kidnapped by The Joker and is willing to trade her for me."

"Exactly," Alfred replied before Bruce could. "And the police and media are on their way here. We need a course of action, as it were, if we're going to handle this huge avalanche of pressure and scrutiny under the public eye."

Amara snorted in disbelief, and winced. In spite of Bruce's best efforts, she did have a terrible hangover. The fact that she'd been woken from a sound sleep didn't help, either. "I doubt that the members of the press are going to be merciful because our daughter has been kidnapped and that we need them out of our faces," she said, her voice full of anger.

"In the meantime, we need a plan," Bruce said.

She looked at him in surprise. "What plan? I turn myself over to The Joker and Ellie goes free. It seems simple enough from my point of view."

As he made to protest, she put a hand on his mouth. "As long as Ellie's safe, that's all that matters."

"I believe that might be the start of a good plan," Alfred put in. "But before we discuss this further, I would like to say that I hope you're both ready to face this thing head-on. The police have arrived."

* * *

AN: Another short chapter, but again, I don't want to drag things out too much. I hope that everyone enjoyed it and will review. Thanks a bunch!


	8. Rescue Plan

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: One very important note: I won't be updating next week because I will be on vacation. I'll try to post as soon as I possibly can, but the next update will be at least a couple days late. Hopefully, this one will tide you over until then. Thanks, and please review!

**Chapter 8: Rescue Plan:**

With Wayne Manor so far outside the city, it was no wonder it took the police almost an hour to get there. It had been constructed by the Wayne family well over one hundred years ago, when Gotham was a young, but thriving, city.

Already quite wealthy, the Wayne's had also purchased a large amount of land surrounding the castle-like house in order to keep the noise and troubles of the city far away from their home. Because of its distance from the city, one would easily assume that it would be a breeze to break into the mansion, and in a way, it was. However, the previous generations of Wayne family members had always kept hired guards and numerous servants living on the grounds, so it was nearly impossible for a thief to enter the place without alerting someone inside.

Also, as the years passed, it was sort of a 'given' that Wayne Manor was not a good place to rob for any reason, primarily because someone very rich and very powerful lived there. And as Wayne Enterprises turned towards technology made for communications and passive-aggressive weapons for protecting America, everyone assumed that it had the best security system that money and engineers could put together. No one ever suspected that the property was too large to keep a constant eye on, or that it was lacking any sort of security system whatsoever. The belief was that, if you were rich, you were sure to have the best protection there was. No one ever suspected that this was not so with the Wayne family, who let others believe whatever they wanted, so long as it gave them their privacy.

With Bruce, however, things were different. Although The Joker was in a coma, the possibility that he might recover had caused Bruce to put in an alarm system in the hopes that it would keep his family safe. Of course, The Joker had managed to find a way to breach that system; money talked, after all, and the right threats were sure to make anyone cooperative. Passwords, maps of the Wayne Manor security system, including where the sensors were, and The Joker was set with everything he needed to break in. Which, of course, he did.

All this Bruce told Commissioner Gordon in the privacy of his home office. Gordon was sympathetic and apologetic, saying he was sorry for not informing them of the madman's escape from the hospital, but that his hands had been tied. As much as he wanted to warn Bruce and Amara, he couldn't do so without losing his job. Plus, there was the threat of being blacklisted for every decent job in the state.

"I don't blame you, Commissioner," Bruce assured him, his voice soft. "However, I hope that the mayor and the governor don't expect me to be on speaking terms with them while they are in office, however long that may be."

It probably wouldn't be too long. The public was _very_ unhappy about being kept in the dark about a violent, sociopathic criminal on the loose. As it was, everyone was frightened for their lives and their families; memories of the explosive and fiery destruction that had occurred half a decade ago still lingered.

Gordon nodded in agreement. "Well, let's put the mayor and governor aside. Right now, I'm more worried about your daughter than anything else."

Rubbing a hand over his moustache, the Commissioner sat back in his leather chair and sighed. "As soon as I saw the news, I got my best men and headed over here. I'm hoping that you have no desire to hand over your wife in exchange for your daughter?"

Bruce shook his head. "I don't want to, but Amara is willing to do anything she has to in order to get Ellie back. Alfred and I are doing our best to keep her from turning in the proverbial 'mother bear' trying to protect her cub, and she's been extremely calm about this, but I think it's only a matter of time before it fully sinks in that Ellie's gone and that her violent side will come out."

The head of police sighed. "Well, I've got my men setting up some wire taps on your phones, just in case he calls, but I doubt that he will. He's no ordinary kidnapper or criminal. In the meantime, it's rather late, and it'd probably be best if you and Mrs. Wayne headed off to bed. Keep a phone close, and if anything happens, I'll come get you. There will be a guard outside your door, just in case."

Bruce reluctantly nodded his agreement, knowing he had no choice but to give in.

* * *

Pacing the room, Amara was doing her best not to strangle someone. After her drunkenness and hangover had faded, the reality of the situation had finally hit her. Ellie was gone, kidnapped, and she was stuck here at Wayne Manor, a guard of police officers at the bedroom door so that she and her husband couldn't do anything.

And she _really_ wanted to do _something_.

Given the choice, Amara would have Bruce out there in full Batman regalia questioning every criminal he could get his hands on. As for her, Amara was eager to strangle The Joker with her bare hands for laying a finger on her daughter.

'_Ellie must be scared out of her wits right now_.'

She dared not think that something worse might have happened to her. If one hair was hurt on her child's precious head, there'd be hell to pay.

On silent feet, Bruce came up beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Breathing deeply, Amara tried to calm herself. She had to think rationally right now.

Just then, something began shaking in her husband's pocket, attracting both their attention. It was his cell phone. Bruce had a puzzled look on his face, clearly indicating that he wasn't expecting a call of any sort. Whipping out his phone, he glanced at it to find out who was calling. Amara instantly grew alarmed as his face went from worried and loving to full of anger.

"It's a message from _him_," Bruce said, keeping his voice soft. "I don't know how he got this number, but when I do, someone is in _big_ trouble."

She ignored that. "What is it? A voicemail?" she asked, her voice quivering with worry.

He shook his head. "No, it's a text message. There's an address, and instructions we have to follow."

Amara began to panic. "Bruce, the police have taps on the phones! They could be seeing this right now!"

"They can't, not on this phone," he told her. "This is my own private line, and the contact I have with this phone company promised to let me know the minute that someone taps into it. Even if someone _did_, my friend wouldn't let them see anything. Something about wanting to protect my business interests, I think. We're safe."

The two of them looked at the glowing screen. Bruce quickly pulled up a map of Gotham and typed in the address he'd been sent. As it turned out, it was a parking lot at the edge of the city, and the instructions stated that Amara was to be waiting there, alone, to retrieve her daughter. Any sign of Bruce or the police would get Ellie killed.

"We need to get down to the caves," Bruce whispered firmly. "We can put something together down there. I don't trust the police to not mess this up."

Amara agreed. They had a secret way down to the underground caverns through their bedroom, but with the guards outside their door, how would they manage to slip away without the police searching around the room for hidden passages?

Bruce looked around and grinned. "I've got an idea."

* * *

It took some time, as well as ingenuity, but Bruce had plenty of both, so Amara was fairly sure any of his ideas would work. Tonight, his plan was to tie up their bed sheets into a makeshift rope, and toss it out the window, making it look as though they'd left the Manor that way instead of through the secret passageway.

"Not that they'd actually _find_ the hidden door," Bruce whispered to her.

Since it required a thumbprint of either Bruce or Amara to gain access, it was very unlikely that the police would be able to get to it. Also, it would have been extremely difficult for the cops to find the keypad in the first place. Bruce was very thorough about keeping his nightly identity a secret.

"But a bed sheet rope?" she softly asked him. "Will that really fool them?"

He grinned at her. "You'd be surprised. They'll be so frantic to find us that I doubt they'll ever think to search the room for hidden doors out of the house. Besides, it's only the second floor, and desperate parents do desperate things when their children are in danger."

Well, he was right about desperate parents: mothers turned into protective mother bears, and fathers…well, they were either as bad or worse than the mothers. Amara was definitely in the mood to wreak some serious vengeance out on someone, and Bruce was definitely the wrong father to mess with. Rich, powerful, and secretly Gotham City's masked vigilante, there were numerous ways for him to get revenge on his daughter's kidnappers.

For now, however, they had to remain calm. Amara held her breath as Bruce tossed the knotted sheets out the window, went over to the wall beside their nightstand and accessed the hidden keypad. The doorway slid open at his verified thumbprint, and he motioned for her to follow.

* * *

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Amara whispered into the microphone/tracking device around her neck.

In the Batcave, they had decided to let Amara go to the parking lot and get Ellie back. Bruce, of course, wasn't thrilled with the idea of having Amara as bait, but knew they had no choice. The plan was to have him, as Batman, be nearby while the exchange took place. That way, if The Joker went back on his word and kept both Amara and Ellie, Bruce would be able to follow them as closely as he could overhead, gliding on the winds and thermals of the city to wherever they were being taken. And, if either his wife or his daughter were harmed in any way, Batman would arrive and do whatever he had to in order to save his family.

Before he let Amara throw herself into danger, however, Bruce gave her a necklace with a tracking device and microphone inside. It was the same ruby pendant he'd given her the night of the Autumn Ball all those years ago. He'd never told her what was hidden behind the glittering red gem, but had been forced to do so tonight. Bruce had expected her to be angry at him for 'tagging' her back before they were married, but she wasn't. The pendant had saved her six years ago; it would do so again tonight.

"Relax," Bruce whispered back to her. "Now, I'm going to adjust it so that I can hear what's happening on your end, but you won't be able to hear me. It'll be safer that way."

She started to protest, but stopped herself. It made sense, if only so The Joker didn't hear anything suspicious coming from the pendant. With a sigh, Amara nodded. "Alright. Go ahead."

There was a quick burst of static, then silence. She was alone in the parking lot. Now all she could do was wait.

* * *

"If your Mommy and, ah, _Daddy_ are really smart, they'll do exactly what I said," The Joker softly said, one gloved hand twirling a knife while the other tapped out a rhythm on his knee.

Across from him, Ellie clutched a stuffed white seal, her eyes staring up at him from under her hair. Her longish bangs made sure she wasn't caught looking at him. He didn't like it when she looked at him. Maybe it was because of the icky makeup and scars that made him look like he was always smiling.

"And if you're very lucky, your mommy will be joining us very, very soon," he said, twirling his knife around, the blade shining in the light coming through the windows of the van.

Glancing down into her lap, Ellie held back tears and hoped that Mommy and Daddy would save her.

* * *

Glancing around the empty lot, Amara tried to keep herself calm. She could hear a large vehicle approaching, and her body tensed. Fear and anger mingled together in a rush of adrenaline, shooting through her veins and setting them on edge. She anxiously hoped that The Joker would keep his word, though a small part of common sense told her that he never kept his promises. She had to expect the worst, and did.

A van pulled around a corner and into the lot. The windows were darkened, easily hiding the occupants of the vehicle. Amara waited until it pulled to a stop beside her and the side door opened. She took a few steps back, wary of what might be inside.

"Mommy!" cried a small, frightened voice. It was Ellie.

Amara didn't even have the chance to answer her, because the next thing she knew, a pair of ruffians had her by the arms and were tossing her into the back of the van, slamming the door shut behind her.

Gathering her wits about her, she realized something was trying to climb into her lap. It took her only a second to realize it was her child.

"Oh, precious!" breathed Amara as Ellie settled into her arms. "Baby, are you alright?"

"Yes, Mommy," Ellie softly replied.

Pressing soft kisses to her daughter's forehead, Amara savored the feel of Ellie's small, warm body settled against her own.

A glint of reflective metal caught her eye and made her swallow nervously. A sharp knife hovered just above Ellie's head, aimed right at Amara's throat. Eerie black-rimmed eyes stared at her from a painted white face as scarred red lips smiled at her.

"Just one big happy family, aren't we?" The Joker said with a mad grin. "And we _will_ be one big family…just the three of us."

Ellie whimpered and snuggled further into her lap, burying her face in her mother's neck. All Amara could do was hold her close and pray that Bruce was following close behind them.

* * *

Bruce knew, without a doubt, that The Joker had no intention of letting Ellie go. That was how madmen like him worked when it came to getting what he wanted. Even though he now had Amara, he was probably keeping Ellie as a way of forcing Amara to stay with him.

Tracking his wife was not difficult, but Bruce dared not follow from the air. He might pass over them, possibly even lose them, and that would be a very bad thing at this point. Bruce would wait until they were far enough ahead to follow at a safe distance, or until they reached their hideout. Either way, his patience was going to wear _very_ thin before this was all over.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the dot on his tracker stopped moving. Apparently The Joker had taken root in the outskirts of Gotham, an area between the bustling city and the quiet suburbs. There were few things in that area: a factory or two, a discount shopping mall, and some dilapidated neighborhoods where no one lived. The houses there were old and abandoned, their former owners having moved either to the suburbs or the city, leaving the houses to stand empty. Nobody wanted to live there now, making it the perfect place to hide out for a while.

Rising to his feet, Batman took a deep breath and stared down at the city below him. Tonight, he would put the safety of his family above the rest of Gotham's citizens. With a nod, he raised his arms and jumped, flinging open his cape to catch the rising thermals and winds.

In an instant, he was airborne and on his way out of the city. His family needed him.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Bruce was perched near a modest, one-storey house that had been abandoned long ago. The paint had faded to a dark grey, the wood was beginning to rot and mold, and the cement of the driveway was uneven and cracked several times over. It made for a good hideout.

Slowing his breathing, he switched on the headset in his cowl and listened. He could clearly make out the conversations going on inside and didn't like any of it.

"Are they gone?" one of the thugs asked.

"Yeah, boss has got the chick and her brat in the back room with him," another said, a smirk evident in the sound of his voice. "Pretty sparkler the gal was wearing. Break out the cards and we'll see who walks away with it for their own girl."

Several others chuckled, and Bruce could hear a deck being shuffled. Bottles were opened, passed around, drunk, then slammed down on the table as The Joker's goons indulged themselves.

"Why the hell does the boss want the kid?" a third thug asked. "Seems like he could get lots of them out of the rich bitch he's got."

Cards flipped through the air. "Something about the kid's eyes," said a fourth. "The boss says the girl's eyes match her mom's."

Bruce shivered. That was the last he expected to hear, and the worst. If The Joker intended to keep both Amara and Ellie, he could easily torture either one of them into doing what he wanted. And though he was more than capable of taking out The Joker's men, Bruce couldn't do it if both his wife and child were in danger.

'_Time for some reinforcements_,' he thought reluctantly.

Pulling a device from his belt, Batman dialed up Commissioner Gordon.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading, and please review!


	9. Into Your Own Hands

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own anything related to _**Batman**_ or the universe(s) he is in. They belong to other, far richer people than me.

AN: Oh, wow, I'm so sorry for the delay in posting! I wasn't able to finish this until I got back from vacation, so that's why it's so late. To make up for it, I'm posting this and the epilogue at the same time.

Sadly, the end of this story means that I am officially tapped out when it comes to the _**Batman**_ universe. It's very unlikely that I'll write anymore _**Batman**_-related fan-fiction in the near future, but I might, if/when a new _**Batman**_ movie comes out. I'll consider it, but it doesn't seem very likely. Thanks to everyone who has read this story and stuck with me! You rock!

**Chapter 9: Taking Matters Into Your Own Hands:**

In the back room of the hideout, The Joker carefully eyed his two captives. Ellie, of course, looked terrified, but was oddly calm for a little girl in such a predicament. Of course, she was probably so quiet because her mother was there, holding her close and offering comfort. At least she wasn't crying or screaming –he hated people who did that, especially kids.

As for Amara, the woman looked torn between three or four entirely different emotions. Anger, worry, fear, and determination all swam over her face like ripples on the surface of a pond. It was quite entertaining, though he preferred to watch her eyes. They were _very_ expressive.

One hand flipping his knife open and closed, The Joker relaxed into a corner of his chair. Even if they tried making a break for it, he was both strong and fast enough to catch them before they even got close to the door. Neither female would get very far. Besides, his goons were all waiting out in the main part of the house, each heavily armed.

The Joker cocked his head and listened. Laughter, clanking bottles, and the sound of cards reached his ears. No doubt they were gambling with their money and the fine jewelry he'd taken off of Amara's lovely person. It wasn't much: a Rolex watch with diamonds instead of numbers, a very nice gold bracelet, and a ruby pendant that had been around her neck. The ruby itself was probably worth a new car, since the stone was as big as a thumbnail and perfect in cut and color.

'_Probably bought for her by that prissy husband of hers_,' he thought angrily.

The knife in his hand went flying across the room, landing with a thud in the wall just above Amara's head. Ellie gasped and swallowed hard as her mother pulled her into an even tighter embrace. He grinned. They were frightened. Good.

Looking at Amara's suddenly defiant and determined gaze, he knew that she was hoping for a rescue from her husband. Of course, she didn't know that The Joker was planning on getting the billionaire alone in order to take him out. Once Wayne was out of the way, that'd leave room for a new man in Amara's life, and a new daddy for Ellie.

'_Haven't thought of how to get rid of him, yet, though_.'

That would involve careful planning, and he still didn't like using plans. Plans were _logical_, and required a lot of thought. The Joker was more of a spontaneous kind of guy, and he dearly loved surprises. They were much more entertaining.

Throwing back his head, he burst into laughter. Things were about to get interesting.

* * *

Quietly moving through the tall grass, the police approached the rundown house. Scowling, Bruce-as-Batman couldn't stop the swell of impatience inside as a flood of SWAT members slowly advanced on the house. Things had to go slowly, otherwise Amara or Ellie could be hurt. The only thing that he'd had to move quickly on was his explanation at being here.

Luckily, his story was simple: after hearing about The Joker's escape, Batman had decided to be a hidden guard over Bruce Wayne. Batman had then seen Mr. and Mrs. Wayne leave Wayne Manor and followed them, eventually cornering them as they made their way into Gotham. Batman had then convinced Mrs. Wayne to lend herself as bait for The Joker while Mr. Wayne went into 'hiding' until the whole thing was over.

As expected, Commissioner Gordon had bought the story, though he grumbled about not being able to reach Bruce and tell him what was going on.

Biting back a sigh, Batman looked to his left. Crouched beside him in the tall weeds that gave them cover, Commissioner Gordon whispered into the tiny microphone that was pinned to his coat's lapel. The earpiece was hidden within the crook of his ear.

Quietly, he turned in Batman's direction. "There's at least four men up front, and three figures in the back. Heat sensors detect that two of the figures in the rear of the house are smaller than the third. No doubt one of them is The Joker, and the others are Mrs. Wayne and her daughter. We'll have to move carefully."

"There won't be any negotiations," Batman warned him. "It's not The Joker's style. He'll likely act before we do, and all we will be able to do is try and fend off every move he makes."

Gordon nodded his agreement. "So what do you suggest we do?" he whispered. "We can't make a move with a pair of hostages in play, especially when one is a child. Bruce Wayne would never forgive me."

Bruce couldn't agree more with that. However, what he said was, "Sooner or later, The Joker will figure out that we're here. He's not stupid, and usually thinks of everything."

Suddenly, the Commissioner stiffened, his face full of concentration as he focused on something being told to him through his earpiece. "Apparently, he already did."

* * *

The realization completely blindsided him, just as he was getting comfortable. _Too_ comfortable, apparently, because if he'd been his usual self, he wouldn't have missed such an obvious thing.

'_The police are going to be all over this, and they'll find us_.'

He both hated and adored the Gotham police. Too stupid to do much on their own, and always a great deal of fun to horrify with his very public violent actions, they were a wonderful and constant source of entertainment.

This time, however, they were a major thorn in his side. No doubt Batman would be with them, too, and he was the ultimate 'good-guy,' one who was incorruptible and entirely devoted to truth and justice. The pairing of Batman and the cops was never a good one, especially with Commissioner Gordon in the mixture. How annoying!

Angrily tossing another knife into a wall, he grabbed what he considered his most precious bargaining chip. Of course, the child screamed and tried to keep hold of her mother, but he simply backhanded the woman into a corner.

"One wrong move, and she's dead," he growled, whipping a knife out of his sleeve. The blade hovered a scant inch from Ellie's horrified face.

Amara froze where she was on the floor. Grinning, The Joker headed out to the front of the house, where his men looked up from their card game. He glanced at one of them and motioned for him to stand up. The goon obeyed.

"Look outside and tell me what you see," he snarled.

Slowly, the man did as he was bid, creeping over to the window and peeking out the fading curtains that remained there. He briefly scanned the area outside, and when he turned back, the pale tone of his skin said exactly what The Joker had anticipated.

Cops, and probably a large number of them.

Clutching Ellie even closer to him, The Joker approached the window, knocking out the glass remnants with his elbow. "I wouldn't do that if I were you!" he shouted to the cops outside. "Unless you want sweet little Ellie Wayne to have a breather hole in her neck!"

He waited, knowing that Commissioner Gordon himself would soon make himself heard on a bullhorn. There was no phone in the house, so there'd be no talks that way. Shouting would have to do, for now.

"Let the girl go, Joker," Gordon boomed through the walls and window. "The place is surrounded. Like it or not, you're out-gunned and outnumbered."

The Joker laughed and went to the door, opening it just a few inches and leaning slightly out the gap while holding Ellie in front of him as a shield. "True, but you forgot one thing," he shouted to the S.W.A.T team hiding in the tall grass outside. "I've got nothing to lose, and you do!"

No doubt there were muttered curses going on between the S.W.A.T teams and cops –they hated it whenever someone had a better bargaining chip. Quietly, The Joker listened, waiting for Gordon's next move.

"What do you want?" the loud voice asked.

He grinned. _Now_ they were getting somewhere.

* * *

Batman turned and looked at Gordon. The Commissioner was pretty irked by now.

"First The Joker breaks loose and kidnaps the Wayne's child, then I lose the Wayne's themselves. And now this," the older man muttered as he stared at the rundown house. "If either one of the hostages get killed, Bruce Wayne will have me shoveling snow in Antarctica by tomorrow night."

Taking note of the idea, Bruce shifted his gaze in the same direction as his friend's. Ellie had been hauled back inside the house, but to where, he didn't know.

An idea suddenly hit, and Bruce immediately reached for his belt, pulling out a pair of heat-sensor goggles that he slipped over his cowl and over his eyes. What he saw astonished him.

Standing in the front living room area of the house were five tall figures, four of them gathered a few feet behind the fifth, who stood by the front door. The man by the door held a smaller figure in his arms, clearly indicating that it was The Joker. All five of the figures were facing the main entrance of the house, and didn't notice that another figure was slowly emerging from the back room.

Fascinated, Bruce watched as the new figure, one that was smaller and petite, crept up to what he believed to be a side table and took something off of it. In his heart, he knew it had to be Amara, but what in the world was she _doing_?

Captivated by what was going on inside, he watched as four lone figures slowly spread out, heading towards the windows of the house facing the front yard. They were likely taking watch posts in order to keep a better eye on the cops, their hands reaching for weapons that they kept tucked away on their person. As he watched, the front door was opened by the Clown Prince, Ellie wrapped up in his arms with a knife to her throat.

"Normally, I don't like talking and negotiating," the makeup-wearing madman yelled. "But since I've got something I want to keep, I'll make an exception just this once. Let me and the, ah, pretty Mrs. Wayne leave, and you can have the girl."

At Batman's elbow, Commissioner Gordon shook his head and dropped the bullhorn. "I can't let him do it, but if we want both Mrs. Wayne and her daughter to come out of this alive, I've got to let him get away with what he wants."

Bruce was ready to protest, but held his tongue. Gordon was right, but he desperately wanted to get both his wife and his daughter back safely, and at the same time. He didn't think he could bear having to wait to see either one of them.

"Let me go in," Batman said in his gravely voice. "I can get in through the back with no trouble. They're all crowded up front, which is a pretty stupid move."

Gordon reached up and smoothed his moustache. "They might be waiting for us to make the first move, or he could have a twisted plan up his sleeve. I don't want to try anything unless-"

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out through the air. Shouts from both police and S.W.A.T quickly followed, and then, it was chaos.

* * *

She didn't know what had come over her. One minute, she was on the ground without Ellie in her arms, and the next, she was reaching for a gun.

It was as though she were in some sort of daze, watching her daughter get taken as a human shield for a madman who cared about nothing in the world. A cold sort of rage had built up inside Amara's heart, slowly spreading throughout her body until it engulfed her. Her child was in danger, and she had to do something.

While The Joker had been distracted, part of her had decided to act. Ellie's life was at stake, and she couldn't wait for Commissioner Gordon and his men to take action. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Peering out the doorway of the back room, she heard Commissioner Gordon's voice, demanding the release of hostages. The Joker's attention was solely focused on the gathering of police officers forming literally right outside his door. Meanwhile, his goons were gathered near him, loaded guns in their hands as they kept an eye out for possible attacks from the police.

Looking around, Amara spotted a gun sitting on a table covered in cards, money, and a few pieces of her jewelry. One of the men must have left it there while they were playing cards. Strange that he didn't miss it, but then, they probably had several spares hidden on their person anyway.

A small part of her mind was screaming for her to not do anything stupid, that she could still get herself and Ellie out of this mess without harming anyone. The rest of her disagreed with that. So, looking at the men before her, Amara knew what she had to do.

Raising the gun, she took aim and pulled the trigger.

* * *

It took all of Bruce's strength and determination not to rush in there with the cops. A single shot had rung out through the air, and after that, The Joker fell forward, his eyes wide open with shock as he went to the floor. Somehow, Ellie managed to wiggle free of her captor's grip and run straight into a S.W.A.T member's arms, tears streaming from her eyes as she was whisked away from harm.

Meanwhile, a wave of S.W.A.T and cops crashed through every possible window and door of the place, shouting for people to freeze. As Batman rose from his place among the grass, he saw The Joker's men being led out in handcuffs. Ellie was brought over to the Commissioner and Bruce was amused to see a look of awe on her small face as she looked up at him.

"Batman?" she breathed, brown eyes wide. Not wanting to give himself away, he nodded stiffly to her.

Gordon smiled openly and took the little girl in his arms. "Hi there, sweetheart," he muttered to her. "Let's get you and your Mommy out of here, huh?" He turned to Batman. "And do you think you can arrange for Bruce Wayne to meet us at Wayne Manor? I think he'll want to see his daughter as soon as possible."

Batman nodded and turned around, summoning The Tumbler with a remote on his belt. He'd had it idling nearby, just in case.

"Mommy!" cried Ellie, causing Bruce to turn around.

Amara looked like she'd been through hell and back, but the joyful look in her eyes made all of that inconsequential. Ellie practically leapt from the Commissioner's arms into her mother's, causing the police officers escorting her to chuckle. Once more, it took all of Bruce's restraint not to run over and take them both in his arms for a round of hugs and kisses. Sadly, that would have to wait.

Turning his back, he jumped into his car and drive off towards the city. As he made his way there, however, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the Commissioner. He had an appointment to make, one that he couldn't wait to meet.

* * *

AN: The next chapter will be the epilogue. Thanks again for reading this story. Please be kind and review!


	10. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything in the _**Batman**_ world, though I wish I did. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Here it is, the end of the story! If anyone has any interest in _**Phantom of the Opera**_ or _**Pirates of the Caribbean**_, you can find me over there for future reading. If not, then I thank everyone for their love and support. It means so much to me that you've found my stories enjoyable. Thanks again, and I hope to see you in other categories!

**Epilogue**:

As expected, Bruce was waiting for the Commissioner and his family at Wayne Manor. The minute Ellie was out of the police car, she ran up the steps and threw herself into her father's arms, babbling on about how she'd met Batman and that he'd helped save her and Mommy from the bad Joker. Smiling, Bruce had simply held her close with one arm and reached for his wife with the other.

After putting Ellie to sleep with a bedtime story and a good dose of hot chocolate in her tummy, Bruce and Amara were forced to make up their own story to the police, saying that Batman had convinced Bruce to go underground while he used Amara as bait and tailed her to The Joker's hideout. Commissioner Gordon bought the whole thing, promising to put it into his report as he wished them a 'goodnight.'

Once they were alone, Alfred was able to fuss over his charges, plastering them with drinks, food, and something to help them fall asleep that night, which, in fact, they did.

* * *

The next day, Commissioner Gordon paid another call to Wayne Manor, bringing with him news of The Joker. Apparently Amara had shot him in a crucial spot, the bullet lodging in the Clown Prince's spine, wounding him critically and paralyzing him from the neck down. He was no longer a threat to anyone anymore.

"We've transferred him to a facility outside of Gotham, where he'll be seen to for the rest of his life," Gordon informed them over cups of coffee. "The doctors and nurses have him in an isolated wing so that he'll have no contact with the outside world from now on."

The news was a great relief to both Bruce and Amara. With the shadow no longer hovering over them, they were finally free to live their lives in peace.

"Or as peaceful as it can get for Batman and his wife," she muttered as they fell asleep that night.

Bruce didn't say anything, but smiled as he rested his chin atop her head and drifted off to dreams.

* * *

As time passed, it soon became clear that Ellie needed to know about her father's nightly activities. The child had developed a crush on the masked vigilante, and Amara thought it wise to tell her Batman's secret identity before her feelings advanced even further. Bruce reluctantly agreed.

So, just after Ellie's tenth birthday, Bruce and Amara took their daughter aside and told her the truth: her father was Batman. Their proof was the Batcave hidden beneath the foundations of Wayne Manor, and the secondary hideout at the docks where a number of gadgets were stored for emergency use.

Needless to say, Ellie was shocked at the revelation, but as soon as she got over it, she pleaded for her father to let her train in fighting, just like him.

Like any loving parents, Bruce and Amara indulged her in this, signing her up for karate, gymnastics, and a bit of dance, to add grace to her movements. Her parents thought it was just a phase she was going through, that she would grow out of it once she realized how hard it was to train to be a crime fighter. The bumps, bruises, torn muscles, twisted ankles, and occasional broken bones she obtained would have knocked some sense into any other girl, causing them to quit and turn to other hobbies.

As it turned out, Ellie relished every minute of it. Whenever she made progress in her fighting skills, she felt more confident in herself, though she always tried to stay humble about it. Bruce even taught her a few tricks in enduring pain under extreme circumstances; however, he was always lectured by his wife on how he shouldn't encourage their daughter in crime fighting, since Ellie might change her mind.

But Ellie never did go back on what she started, and by the time she was eighteen, she was out with her father, patrolling Gotham's streets as the new hero, Batgirl. The patrolling began as one night a week, slowly growing to two, then three, but no more than that. Amara refused to let crime fighting prevent her daughter from attending college, and besides, she worried herself sick every time her husband and her daughter went out at night.

Eventually, Bruce found that he could no longer keep up his position as The Dark Knight. He couldn't heal as quickly as he once did, and even though he was in fine physical shape, with his increasing age came slowness in movements, much to his frustration. He was forced to relinquish his mantel to Ellie, who took it up with as much seriousness as Bruce could have asked for.

But in the Batcave, Bruce set up a massive computer and communications center, a means of guiding his daughter through her patrols, offering advice and guidance whenever it was needed. This was key in keeping her intelligently sharp, and provided another perspective when solving puzzling crimes. Amara thought it amusing and exasperating that Bruce couldn't just retire like most men did, but at least he spent his days with her, so she didn't mind. Well, for the most part.

Ellie eventually married a nice young man known as Richard Grayson, formerly a trapeze artist in a circus. The two of them became partners in all things, including as crime fighting duo Batgirl and Robin. In time, Dick and Ellie's son, Timothy, donned the Robin outfit as Dick became the hero known as Nightwing, believing it unfitting for him to take up his father-in-law's cape and cowl. The title of Batman would fall on Tim, when the time came. And came it did, when Tim was full-grown and his parents believed he was ready. Bruce could not have been prouder of his grandson.

Until the day he passed, Bruce was there, with Amara by his side, guiding the future of Gotham's masked protectors. The legacy of Batman endured through his children, his grandchildren, and in future generations, all of them carrying on the idea of truth and justice, a gift passed down to them from the first and greatest Batman.

* * *

AN: Well, that's the end! I hope that this satisfied everyone, and that you enjoyed reading. Thanks again to all my readers, and I wish all of you the very best in all of your reading and writing!


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